Tomorrow
by serataja
Summary: Sam is planning to leave New York. Jack has moved on. Everyone is happy. But sometimes not everything is as it seems... A look at what happened in the past and what will happen tomorrow. Totally JS.
1. In the Beginning, Part 1

**Disclaimer:** They're still not mine and I'm still not making money with it. It's all pure pleasure (or it will be once we work through the pain…)

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Sam is planning to leave New York. Jack has moved on. Everyone is happy. But sometimes not everything is as it seems... A look at what happened in the past and what will happen tomorrow. Totally JS.

**Author's notes: **May you all have as much fun reading as I have writing! Thank you to my wonderful beta **jbird**, whose advice is invaluable. I still wonder how I got through _Taken_ without her…

* * *

**Tomorrow**

_by Serataja_

**-Chapter 1-**

**_In the Beginning, Part 1_**

_**January/Now**_

_It has been snowing lightly for a couple of hours and the great expanses of lawn in Central Park are covered by a thin layer of white. Sam makes her way across, heading for the line of trees on the other side, hearing the surface crunch with every step she takes. Her hands are buried deep in the pockets of her coat, her head is bent. _

_She looks up and sees the figure of her colleague Vivian in the distance, waiting for her. There is a man standing at her side. She does not know him, so he must be the one who found the baby blanket._

_Above the skyscrapers that surround the park, the skies loom grayish-white and heavy, filled with snow._

_Sam shivers._

_It scares her that they found the blanket. She hopes whoever took the baby will keep her warm._

_She reaches the trees, their barren arms reaching heavenwards. Only the thinnest sprinkle of snow has made its way beneath them. Sam cannot make out any footprints. It is now early morning, the baby was taken late yesterday from its carriage just outside the park and the forecasters have predicted heavy snow before the evening._

_A couple of stray snowflakes are settling on Sam's hair, her shoulders, her exposed skin. She never liked the cold and she never liked the snow__ but she remembers a winter when that didn't bother her. When she had felt protected, warmed and loved. Of course, that is long past. It was only a short interlude and she has gone back to hating the winter a long time ago._

_Now she has decided not to put up with it any longer. She is finally moving on._

_She is going away._

**July 2000**

It was not love at first sight. But it was pretty close.

On a hot July morning the sun was rising mercilessly in the deep blue sky. In the streets of New York the heat was baking.

Samantha Spade did not mind the heat. She welcomed it. She removed the jacket of her gray business suit and relished the feel of the hot sun on her skin. She stopped in front of 26 Federal Plaza and did something no born and bred New Yorker would ever do, tipping back her head and gazing up at the tall building. It was not one of the tallest buildings in town, not by far, but in terms of the small town in Minnesota she grew up in and the double-wide trailer her mother raised her in, it was something.

Lowering her head she looked at the entrance doors and took a deep breath. She felt giddy with anticipation. She was fresh out of the FBI Academy, graduating at the top of her class, and this was her first assignment. She had been working at the NYPD before she applied for the FBI and she was pleased that she was staying in New York. Working Missing Persons out of the New York FBI office was a treat, a reward few rookies ever got. She knew agents who would have given their right arm to get a chance like this.

She stepped through the revolving doors and was enveloped by the cool shadow of the lobby. Identifying herself she walked through the metal detector and was given instructions how to find the Missing Persons Unit on the 12th floor.

When she stepped out of the elevator a couple of minutes later it was like entering another world. The place was cool and calm at this time of morning. She was surrounded by soothing brown colors, the offices had walls of glass and there was transparency everywhere. Later she discovered how busy this floor could be with agents, technicians, visitors and the occasional suspect milling about, but her first impression was that of an oasis, far above the usual hustle on the streets.

She walked down the corridor, noticing the big office to her left, which she later learned was referred to as the bullpen for some unknown reason. She could see several agents seated at their desks, which where separated by wooden sound partitions. A whiteboard with a horizontal red line was pushed up to the window front. There was nothing written on it and she wondered what it was used for.

Samantha stopped at the office to her right. The door was open, but even if it had been closed the glass walls would have allowed her to look inside. A middle-aged man with a heavy build was seated at a desk, black-rimmed reading glasses perched on his nose, head bent over some papers. Samantha knocked and he lifted his head, studying the early visitor.

"Yes?" he asked.

She could see that he was preoccupied. He seemed to have difficulty focusing on her as if she had pulled him out of a bad dream.

"Special Agent Samantha Spade, sir. We met in Paula Van Doran's office last week and I was told to report to work today?"

He pulled himself together and motioned for her to come in.

"Yeah, I remember," he said wearily. "I forgot it was today. Do come in. Sit down."

He pulled himself up from his chair and she saw that his suit was rumpled and that he was in pain. He looked like he hadn't slept all night.

"Jack Malone," he introduced himself, reaching across the desk and offering her his hand. She took it, surprised by the bad shape he was in, expecting his grip to be limp and soft. Then his hand closed around hers, firm, almost squeezing it too hard, the skin warm and smooth to the touch, surprisingly pleasant. He looked her right into the eyes and she felt herself wither a bit under the intensity of the stare. Here was a man who expected a lot, not only from others but from himself as well. A man who would not take it lightly if a member of his team screwed up, someone with a lot of passion and a lot of anger pent up inside.

She looked back, trying to keep her gaze steady, not minding the expectations she could read in his eyes, because she intended to give her very best. If that was not good enough for him she could not help it. But she was weary of the other things she could see in him and about what kind of man he was. After all he would be her boss, maybe for a long time.

Jack Malone tried hard to take his mind away from yesterday's events and focus on the new agent in front of him. He was tired to his bones and his left knee was shooting sharp bursts of pain into his upper thigh. The bottle of painkillers he kept in his desk drawer was empty and he had been too busy to get another one.

She was far too beautiful for an agent.

He took in her delicate features, the long blonde hair and the slender figure. She was a real looker. She looked even more striking than he remembered from the short interview last week.

Jack Malone took off his reading glasses and started to rub his eyes.

He would have preferred someone plainer. Paula Stein, the agent who had left because of her pregnancy two weeks ago had been just that and he had been comfortable working with her. There had been no need to guard his reactions and Maria had had no reason to be jealous, like she had been so often before. She accused him of being attracted to other women or having affairs at regular intervals. It was, of course, his own fault. He had slipped once, years ago, after his first daughter Hanna had been born. The woman had been a fellow agent and they had both been drunk. Afterwards he had been so riddled with guilt he had told his wife that very night. But he had not been able to contain the damage. Some basic trust had been broken and Maria had never entirely believed him again.

He put the glasses down on the papers he had been reading and looked at Samantha Spade again. She was more than just a pretty face, though. He could see that. There was a weariness in her eyes. Something that told him she had seen her fair share of life already. She also looked tough and compassionate at the same time. He suspected she would be good at this job.

Samantha tried to read in his face. He was hard man, she could sense that. Dangerous? Probably, if he got pushed too far by the wrong people. She wouldn't want to try to mess with him. Charming? That, too, if he chose to be – or if he had a good day. Arrogant? He certainly looked that way, aloof, inaccessible, but she would wait and see. First impressions could be so wrong. She only hoped he would not turn out to be like so many others in the bureau, convinced of their own superiority, doing things strictly by the book or bending the rules in a way that served their own needs.

He opened a drawer and took out a folder.

"I've looked through your file," he said, "It's impressive. Your instructors were quite taken with your investigative skills."

They talked for a while and she felt comfortable with the conversation and with him. She noticed that the color of the gray suit he was wearing didn't flatter him and that he was wearing an awful tie with yellow and grey stripes. He was not good-looking in the usual sense, but she liked the dark salt and pepper hair that had grown a bit too long, touching his collar and falling across his brow.

"I've noticed that you were also offered a position with the Violent Crimes Unit in Miami. Why did you choose Missing Persons?"

She smiled. _Certainly not because of the miserably cold winters we__ have in New York_, she almost said. Instead she tried to explain to him how the work had appealed to her, the notion of looking for someone that was lost, not just dealing with bad things happening but also with hope. She did not yet know that_ hope_ would sometimes be the worst part of it. That there was nothing more crushing than hope lost.

His gaze was fixed on her, his face cool and unmoving but she could see warmth in his eyes and recognition of her motives and thoughts. She felt something else vibrate beneath his professional outer attire. Maybe passion. A strong drive. Single-mindedness. Some strong emotion waiting to erupt. It could be good or bad, there was no way for her to tell, yet.

The light was doing a strange trick with his eyes. One moment they would look at her, their color a dull brown, then his gaze would shift and they'd become dark, almost black.

In his own way he was a very handsome man.

"I'd like to introduce you to the rest of the team," he said and she tried to ignore the current that had begun running between them. She was sure he was married, she was sure he had kids and she was not eager to be hit on. That had happened to her plenty of times before and she hoped he was not that kind of man. So she gave him a small tight-lipped smile, the one she reserved for unwelcome attention, although he had done nothing inappropriate. So far the inappropriateness had been merely in her own thoughts and she intended to keep it that way.

He pulled himself out of his chair. While Samantha followed him across the corridor to the bullpen she noticed his limp and she noticed that he tried to hide it. It looked painful, but that was really none of her business.

Two agents were sitting at their respective desks near the mysteriously striped whiteboard.

"Special Agents Vivian Johnson and Danny Taylor. Two of the best you'll ever work with," he introduced them and she was surprised to hear not only pride but affection in his voice.

A Hispanic looking man and a dark-skinned woman were looking up at her. She smiled at them, liking them instantly. There was nothing of the ambiguity in them that she felt in Jack Malone.

"This is Samantha Spade," he continued. "Let's see if she is as good as they think she is at the academy."

He looked around, visibly shifting track from light banter to concern.

"Where is Steve?"

Vivian sighed and dropped the pen she was holding.

"He called ten minutes ago and said he didn't feel well. Not that I'm surprised. I asked him if he had made the appointment with Dr. Harris and he said she would be seeing him in the afternoon."

Jack nodded.

"Slow day today, huh?" he said.

"If you want to put it that way," Vivian muttered.

"People don't disappear in weather like this," Danny chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. "They melt and the puddles are real easy to find." He grinned up at Samantha

"Right," Jack said. "So, Danny, why don't you go and visit Steve? And be sure to tell him what happened to Rider down in Violent Crimes. We all make mistakes. We have to deal with them."

"Aye, sir," Danny said with a mock salute.

"Get going," Jack Malone grumbled without really seeming to mind Danny's attitude. He shifted his attention back to Vivian and Samantha.

"You could introduce Agent Spade to the computer. And make sure to show her the coffee-machine. I'll be in my office, finishing the last ton of paperwork."

When he was gone Samantha raised her eyebrows.

"I hope he wasn't implying that he expected me to bring him coffee?"

Vivian laughed.

"Don't worry. He's not that kind of man, he's just showing off. Do you _want_ a cup of coffee?"

"That would be lovely."

Vivian led her past the desks to a small table with a coffee-machine and big cups with the FBI logo stamped on them. She watched with amusement as Samantha added a shocking amount of cream and sugar to her cup. Samantha noticed.

"I'm just nervous," she explained. "I only need that much sugar when I'm nervous…or very comfortable," she added with a grin.

"I was nervous, too when I started here," Vivian said, "but I don't think you need to be. Jack is a really good boss."

"Have you worked with him long?"

"Ten years. He's the best."

"Okay," Samantha said, reassured that Vivian seemed to like him.

She followed her back across the office.

"This is yours."

Vivian pointed to one of the desks.

"Make yourself comfortable. Do you have any questions?"

She hit a key on the keyboard, opening a program.

Samantha was silent for a moment looking at the whiteboard.

"If you drag a chair over here I can show you how this works."

Samantha sat down and rolled over to Vivian's desk.

"I'd like to know how _this_ works," she said pointing at the board.

"The timeline," Vivian grinned. "Looks a bit enigmatic the first time you see it, I guess. Especially when it's blank. We'll get to that. Now, look at this."

The program was something Samantha had used before and she was a fast learner. Vivian looked satisfied at her grasp on things and that gave Samantha the courage to ask a more intimate question:

"Should I know what happened to Steve?"

Vivian froze up.

"I'm sorry. I just noticed. If it's none of my business it's okay."

Vivian leaned back in her chair. She continued staring at the computer screen.

"It does affect the team," she said, "so now it does affect you, too, and, yeah, you should know…"

She swiveled around in her chair, facing Samantha.

"Yesterday morning a hospital reported that a mentally unstable man was missing. He had lost his wife in a car accident two months before and was admitted after a nervous breakdown. Add severe depression and a beginning psychosis. He was in a really bad state."

Vivian paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and seeming to gather strength.

"Actually, he was not that hard to find. In the early afternoon one of his neighbors called us and reported she had seen him on the stairs of his apartment building. She said he had gone up to the roof… And that's where Danny and Steve found him."

She sighed and her gaze traveled out of the window. Her hands were very still, clasped on the desk in front of her.

"He was crouched against one of the chimneys. When he saw our agents arrive he panicked, went to the ledge and threatened to jump. They backed down immediately, of course, and Jack decided to call in the psychiatrist who had treated the man at the hospital. But when they couldn't reach him Steve decided to try to talk him down on his own. Danny had gone to the hospital to track down the doctor and Jack was on the phone with me so no one tried to stop him…."

Her face grew still.

"That's when things went so wrong. They talked for maybe a minute or two. Then suddenly the guy freaked and pulled a gun. We hadn't suspected anything like that."

Samantha looked at the tension in her features, dreading what was to come.

"The guy started to shoot. He was not aiming at anything in particular. But he hit a man standing at a window just across the street, watching."

"Oh God!"

"Yeah. The bullet struck him in the chest, killed him instantly. The man was 38, married, two children, stayed at home from work because he had a cold. And the shooter jumped."

She dropped her gaze to her hands, shaking her head.

Samantha exhaled slowly.

"So you can see we're not in the best of shapes right now. Steve is taking it very hard, which is good, of course, but we got a bit concerned about him. And Jack…well…"

She leaned back in her chair and looked over at his office. They could see him hunched over his desk, the telephone pressed to his ear, obviously having a conversation that didn't please him.

"Steve wouldn't acknowledge that he'd made a mistake and Jack got very angry. Right now he is tearing himself up because he thinks it's entirely his fault for not stopping Steve in time."

Vivien shot a glance at Samantha, not sure if she had given away too much of her supervisor's personality. But Samantha merely nodded.

"Thank you for telling me."

Vivian turned back to the computer.

"Let's get back to work. I'd rather not think about all this right now."

After only a moment they heard Jack's voice behind them.

"Danny called. Steve isn't answering his door or his phone.He says the door is too solid to kick in so he's called in the NYPD to help him."

Vivian and Sam had turned around. Jack was pale and Vivian looked at him with alarm.

"I'm heading over there now. Could you please try to reach Dr. Harris?"

Without waiting for an answer he turned and headed for the elevator.

Vivian gave Samantha a motioning sign with her hand.

"Go with him," she ordered.

Samantha looked startled.

"Go. He won't wait for you."

ooo

She caught up with him at the elevator. He shot her a dark and preoccupied look but strangely enough that didn't intimidate her.

"I'm going with you. Agent Johnson filled me in about yesterday."

He looked at her for a moment, maybe trying to discern just how much Vivian had told her. Then the elevator doors opened.

"Okay," was all he said.

It was hard to keep up with his long strides on their way to the car. He seemed to propel himself forward with the help of his upper body and she realized that there had to be something seriously wrong with his left leg. His face had knotted with pain but his eyes were somber and focused.

TBC


	2. In the Beginning, Part 2

Now, first of all thank you for all the great reviews that I got. Every time I find one of those in my mailbox I'm a really happy little fanfiction writer.

**Jbird **has done her good work on this chapter, too and is working on the next one. So if you're still waiting for _Another Life_ to be continued, wondering what takes her so long, I'm prepared to shoulder part of the blame. You're all in for a treat when she updates! _As I speak she has done so! Great!_

Special thanks to **Mariel** for being supportive and caring about this story.

Now that I've got all this off my chest, let's get on with the story…

* * *

**Tomorrow**

_by Serataja_

**-Chapter 1-**

_**In the Beginning, Part 2**_

Twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of Steve's building. Jack was out of the car in a flash and Samantha followed him more slowly wondering how he could move that fast with his leg, assuming that it was less painful than it looked. A police car was parked at the curb and an ambulance was backed up to the entrance. No one was in sight but the driver of the ambulance. He was leaning idly out of the window, smoking a cigarette and calmly regarding the throng of onlookers who were waiting for some action.

Jack narrowed his eyes. He felt his chest constrict with foreboding. He hurried inside, striding up the three flights of stairs, gripping the railing hard because he could feel the bad leg buckling under him. There was really no time for that. He knew he would pay for it later but right now he was pumped so full of adrenaline he couldn't feel anything.

Danny was leaning on the wall next to Steve's apartment. His shoulders were slumped and his face white. When he heard the steps he looked up, saw Jack approaching and felt a paradoxical hope rise in his heart. Jack would set things right. Jack would rescue them out of this mess.

Jack glanced at him, giving his shoulder a short squeeze and pushed past him only to find his way blocked by a big police officer filling the door-frame. "I'm sorry, agents," he said, "This looks pretty straightforward to me. No indication of foul play."

The last sliver of hope died in Jack. The officer in front of him seemed like an insurmountable wall and the trust he could see in Danny's eyes only served as a reminder of his failure. Samantha stepped up behind him and although she was the new agent, not even really part of the team yet, her presence was comforting. He could feel her warmth and pulled together the strength to nod at the officer in acknowledgement. Pushing past him, he vanished inside. Danny slid down to a crouching position, hanging his head between his knees. Samantha bent down and put a hand on his arm.

"You all right?" she asked concerned.

He looked up at her with dazed eyes.

"I'm fine," he answered.

"Just hang in there, okay?" she said, worried about him.

"I'm fine," he said again, his voice a bit more convincing, "You better go with Jack."

She thought it odd that both he and Vivian were urging her to go after Jack. She was sure Jack could take care of himself. Having a rookie following him around wherever he went couldn't be very helpful. But she kept quiet and straightened up.

"Sorry," she said, stepping around the officer to follow her new boss inside.

She entered a small living room. Two paramedics and another police officer stood in one corner, talking in hushed voices. It was a nice room with a patterned rug on the floor and a comfortable sofa in front of a television. A young man lay sprawled on the grey cushions. There was a gunshot wound to his right temple. A narrow ring of gunshot residue surrounded it. Samantha averted her eyes from the messy exit wound, noting that a spray of blood had blemished the cushions behind it, noting also the hole the bullet had left when it ripped into the material. His face was untouched, peaceful, his right arm extended, the hand almost touching the rug near the gun that he had dropped in death.

Jack carefully stepped around the gun, not touching anything with his hands but his eyes taking in every detail. He stood stooped over the body for a long moment and Samantha got the impression that he held himself back not to touch the young agent'sface. Finally he turned away, brushing past her on his way out, his face set in stone but tears brimming in his eyes.Not knowing what to do Samantha turned to the big police officer who had entered again. His face was stricken under a cool exterior and his hands fiddled with his sunglasses.

"He's taking it hard, huh?" he said. "It's too bad. But things like that happen. I could tell you stories." He didn't look at the body, instead staring at a spot somewhere over her left shoulder.

"Have to wait for the ME. The detectives are down on the next floor taking statements. Apparently someone heard the shot. You guys want to hang around?"

Samantha suspected that Jack would want to talk to Steve's family.

"I have to check with my colleagues," she told him.

Leaving the apartment she found Danny talking to the Medical Examiner. He looked pale but composed and flashed a reassuring if slightly trembling smile in her direction. Jack was nowhere in sight. Danny pointed up the stairs, so she went up three more flights and came out on the roof. Jack was standing near the ledge, oblivious of the height talking on his cell phone.

"Yeah…yeah…," he said, "No, Vivian, we don't need her any more…it's too late."

His voice broke and for a while he just seemed to listen.

"Yeah, his gun," he finally continued. "No, I don't think so…What...? No, let me take care of that…Yes, I'm sure…Yes, I'm fine, Vivian…I'm fine. See you later."

He rang off and just stood there, immobile, looking down at the phone.

Samantha stepped up to him. When he didn't notice her she put her hand on his arm. She noticed that his muscles were trembling and gripped him harder, wanting to support him.

His other hand went up to cover his eyes and he took one deep breath. When he lowered it again his face was calm and he pulled away from her grip.

"We have to tell his parents. Are you up for that?"

"I am."

"Let's do it, then."

000

Silence is often more telling than words.

Jack Malone knew they had been spotted when he saw the curtain of one of the downstairs windows twitch. There was no need to ring the bell, the door was opening even before they reached it. He could tell by the anguish in the woman's face that she knew. They had met once, not long ago at a fundraiser and that he came to visit her home could mean only one thing.

"Ma'am…" he started to say, not yet knowing how to put his next words, but she cut him off with the mere look in her face, clenched hands pressed to her heart.

"Steve?" she asked.

He nodded.

She turned her head a fraction.

"Marc," she called out to someone in the house, probably Steve's father.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs Reed."

She stopped him with a movement of her hand and Jack complied, waiting until he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Steve's father appeared behind his wife, looking curious at first, then realization dawned on his face and with it sorrow… and rage.

"Steve?" he asked, his voice wavering.

His wife put a restraining hand on his arm, turning around and starting to sob.

Jack stared into the man's face. He fully expected to be hit in the next five seconds but he made no move to pull back.

"I'm sorry," he said again. He had done this before, more than once, but he had never been this involved before.

Marc Reed's face flushed a dark red.

"Is he dead?"

Jack nodded.

"And you got him killed. I can see it in your eyes. How dare you come and tell us."

"Mr Reed…"

Afterwards Jack thought that if his new agent hadn't stepped between them in that moment, calmly and professionally, telling Marc Reed that, in fact, his son had shot himself, he would have ended that day at the hospital.

He would not have fought back.

Marc Reed apologized for his words, later, when they had identified the body at the morgue. Jack had not been able to meet the man's eyes. In his heart he knew that Steve's father had been right. He had gotten him killed.

000

"It's not your fault, Agent Malone."

"What…?"

He had been deep in thought and now he cast a short glance at Samantha not daring to take his eyes away from the heavy traffic.

It was late in the evening. Within ten minutes of their return to the office a 6 year old boy had been reported missing. So they had gone on working, because there was nothing else to do and freezing up in guilt would not bring Steve Reed back.

"Sorry," Samantha said, "You just…I just had the feeling you've been thinking about this all day and I…"

She didn't know how to continue.

His face took on its stony cast again.

"You don't know me and you don't know what is my fault and what is not. You can spare yourself the platitudes."

With anyone else she would have been angry. But she saw the raw hurt in her new boss' face and she let it go. It had been a long day.

Jack closed his eyes briefly then turned right, entering the FBI garage. When he had parked the car he spoke again:

"I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"Was it your fault?"

He bellowed a short laugh and turned to face her.

"Considering that you're new on this job and I'm your boss, you're extremely outspoken."

But he didn't really mind. She had been there at his side all day, quietly supportive, stepping in when needed and he had felt more comfortable around her than he did even with Vivian, whom he had known and worked with for so many years.

She did not smile and her eyes were intense.

"You can't prevent people from screwing up You didn't order him to talk to that man and you didn't put the gun to his head. You had to trust him to be responsible," she said.

He was quiet for a moment.

"I lost my temper," he finally said. "I may not have been able to stop Steve from talking to that guy but I could have left him in a better state of mind. I pushed him over the edge."

"You didn't know he would react that way."

He looked her straight into the eyes.

"It is my job to know things like that. Steve felt that he was responsible for the death of two people. I should have known that that kind of guilt would drive him crazy. But I was too busy being angry. Please, don't try to make me feel better. Maybe it wasn't my fault but it was my call and I missed it."

Her eyes were staring into his, _seeing _him and he felt a jolt go through him at being recognized like that He tried to remember how old she was. 25? How much life experience could she possibly have? Yet, in that moment she saw through to the core of him and to the guilt that he had buried there. She didn't know what had happened to his mother and the part he had played in it. She wouldn't for years to come. But he could see that she understood that he was hiding something, and that she understood what it was doing to him. No one had ever understood before and apart from one sociopathic mass-murderer no one would ever again.

He tried to get his emotions under control.

Samantha wasn't saying anything, but her gaze was still steady on his and she gripped his arm again, like she had done on the roof of Steve's apartment building, in support. Her face was very fragile and very young but her eyes were deep and wise.

He expected her to say more. Something like: "Don't let it get to you," or "Don't let it tear you apart," but she never did. Giving him peptalks would remain Vivian's department. Being there would become hers

He pulled away from her and she smiled, opening the car door. He followed her. They still had a missing child to find.

000

Later that night the boy was found, unharmed and deeply asleep in his grandparents' apartment on Staten Island. They had picked him up at school the day before and spent the day at an amusement park oblivious that they had been supposed to do that one week later. Just a case of a date remembered wrong.

"This is one of the cases we get from time to time," Danny said to Samantha. It was 4 a.m and they were all gathered around the conference table in the bullpen. "People are reported missing, we go out looking for them, working around the clock and suddenly they're standing on our doorstep, saying: What, you were looking for me? How come? I was just visiting my aunt Ethel in North Dakota for a couple of days."

"Yeah, so right," Vivian said.

Jack looked at his people. There was strain in all their faces and it was not just the lack of sleep. It would take some time to get over what had happened to Steve and they would never forget it.

He removed his reading glasses, rubbing his eyes, unaware of the haunted look on his own face.

"Go home, all of you. Grab some sleep We can deal with the paperwork in the afternoon."

Vivian dropped the pen she was holding.

"You don't have to say that twice. I'm out of here."

She stopped behind Samantha, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Good work. I don't know what we would have done without you."

With Danny and Vivian gone Samantha picked up the sponge to wipe the whiteboard clean.

"Agent Spade," Jack said behind her, "I meant it. Go home. You've done a great job."

Smiling she wiped the board and turned around to face him. She noticed that the gold band he wore on his left hand reflected the overhead lights and although she had seen it before, regret swept through her.

_I'm just tired_, she thought. _He will only look half as attractive in the morning. Shit, it is morning already. How will he look in the afternoon? _

It occurred to her that he didn't exactly _look_ attractive at the moment. He wore the same clothes that had been rumpled 24 hours before and his hair was sticking up. Still, he was attractive to her. Little did she know then that the attraction would never pass.

She prepared to leave. Jack had reclined in his chair and looked as if he wasn't about to move in the next couple of hours.

"Aren't you going home?" she asked.

"Just about to," he answered with a little smile, not about to show her how much pain moving his leg would cause him. He had barely made it to the conference table without anyone noticing.

She gave him a look that made him strangely warm on the inside. Then she was gone and he sighed, closing his eyes. He would have to get out of this chair, into his car, drive to the all-night pharmacy and get out of the car again to find the relief he needed. After that he would just sit there and wait until the painkillers kicked in. That was the part he looked forward to.

000

When Jack came home two hours later his wife Maria was already up, preparing breakfast for their daughters, Hanna and Kate. She responded to the small kiss he gave her and he was surprised that she was in a good mood, although he had been gone all night. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, in need of comfort. She stiffened slightly and touched his hands that were clasped on her stomach while she continued to set the table.

"Is the boy all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, everything is all right," he answered, wanting to talk to her about Steve, whom she had never met, but unable to summon up the courage. He would never really get around to telling her the whole story

He buried his face in her neck.

Maria sighed inwardly. She felt that he was in need of something more than just a kiss but she wasn't up for it. Not for the first time she cursed the hot, Irish-Italian blood that ran through his veins. She extricated herself from his arms.

"Do you want breakfast?" she asked.

He shook his head.

Maria pushed past him on her way to the sink. If she had known the man that she had been married to for almost 10 years a little better, she would have detected the residue of pain on his face and known that taking her to bed was the last thing on his mind right now. Being held for a while was all he had wanted.

When she turned around again he was gone. She heard him quietly open the door to the girls' room to check on them and she smiled to herself, relieved. She remembered the early years of their marriage and how often he had gently coaxed her into giving him the passion he needed. After a while she mostly gave in, pleased that he wanted her so much. She had loved him after all, even if she didn't enjoy the physical side of their relationship. But the early years were long past and they had stopped to talk about their different needs. They didn't talk much at all these days, to tell the truth. And Maria didn't realize that she had no idea what his needs were anymore.

000

Samantha came back to the office late in the afternoon. She felt fresh, rested and didn't mind the heat or the stack of paperwork that was waiting for her. She set to work with enthusiasm.

The blinds to Jack's office were drawn and he didn't make an appearance, although Vivian told her that he was in.

When she had finished her last report she went to see him so he could read through it. She sat in his visitor's chair and watched him go carefully through the written pages. She was shocked by how worn he looked, his face drawn from lack of sleep.

Finally he looked up.

"This is perfect," he said, "I don't know how this report could get any more detailed and precise. Good work."

A small smile touched her lips and he responded in kind. The smile transformed his face. It was as if a barrier had been broken down, making him open and accessible.

Sam felt a flutter in her chest. The first stirrings of something that in time would grow stronger than anything else she had ever felt.

It had not been love at first sight.

But it _had _been pretty close.

TBC


	3. Soul Mates, Part 1

So, here's the next chapter. I hope you'll all enjoy it! I enjoyed your reviews!

Warmest thanks again to jbird who is swamped with my next couple of chapters. I hope she gets to chapter 13 of her own story, soon...

* * *

**Tomorrow**

_by Serataja_

**-Chapter 2-**

**_Soul Mates, Part 1_**

_**January/Now**_

_Jack dumps his coat on the sofa in his office, not caring that the melting snow clinging to it might ruin the leather. It is time to hunt down other avenues. NYPD will take care of Central Park. Sam puts her coat on top of his and Danny, seeing that they are finally back, hurries over from the bullpen._

"_Have there been other sightings?" Jack asks. _

_Danny shrugs._

"_Lots of them as usual, but so far no real leads. We're still checking it out."_

_Vivian comes in, still wearing her coat._

"_Martin called. They're starting an organized search, now. He's going to stay there."_

"_Fine. You all know what to do?"_

"_Yeah, Danny's on the phone, I'm going to check out that sighting we had on West 89th and Sam is staying with you. All right?"_

"_All right."_

_Jack sits down at his desk, grabbing the list with possible leads that Danny gave him and hands a couple of sheets over to Sam. She takes them but continues standing, looking down at him with a nervous expression, her lips twitching as if she is about to say something._

_He pretends not to notice._

"_Why should anyone want to hide in Central Park in this weather?" she asks._

_Jack doesn't look up._

"_I don't know, Sam," he says. "I guess not everybody hates the snow like you do."_

_His voice sounds cold to her ears and she feels a dull pain spread through her chest. It's not as if they've had anything other than a work-relationship over the past years. Her feelings for him have faded away long ago. __She thinks it has been the same for him. It is strange to think that something that strong can just go away. If love means so little, what faith can you have in the fabric that holds the universe together? If love means nothing, does anything _mean_ anything anymore?_

_Vivian pops her head around the door once more._

"_Oh, Jack, I forgot to tell you, Jessica called. She watched something about the case on the morning news and wanted to know if you'll be able to make it tonight?"_

"_Damn," Jack says. "I forgot all about it. I don't think there's a chance of me attending the way things are going. Thanks, Viv, I'll call her."_

_Sam sees a small smile of anticipation linger on his lips. He is obviously looking forward to talking to his fiancée. _

_Things have turned out all right for all of them._

"_Jack," she says when Vivian has closed the door, "I don't know if you've been notified already. My transfer has been approved."_

_His eyes are scanning the papers in his hands._

"_Great" he says, "Good. I'm happy for you. Now you can finally get out of the cold. When are you leaving?" _

"_Well, that's it. They want me yesterday at the latest. I talked to Olczyk and he approved it. Today is my last day."_

_Now he finally lifts his head. He looks at the wall straight ahead, closes his eyes, opens them again and then looks at her. His expression is blank._

"_You should have talked to me first."_

"_I went through the proper channels."_

"_I should have known. You should have talked to me first. I'm going to be stuck in this case one agent short. Why the hell didn't you call me?"_

_Anger is creeping into his voice. Only later she thinks it might not have been anger at all. It could have been despair. But there is no reason to despair over being one agent short, is there?_

"_It was late," she answers, trying to stay calm. "I didn't want to wake you."_

"_But waking Olczyk was all right?"_

"_Jack, please…"_

_He dismisses her with a wave of his hand._

"_Go and do your work. If this is your last day you don't have time to spare."_

_He has seldom been that unkind before._

"_I won't be able to attend your wedding either," she tries to patch things up._

"_Jessica and I will be wed with or without you," he snaps. "Now excuse me. I have work to do." _

_Sam leaves his office. She walks to the ladies room, trying to keep her dignity until she is out of sight. Turning on the tap she starts to cry. She tries to keep it low so no one can hear the sound over the rushing water._

_The door opens and Vivien enters. She stops at the sight and raises her eyebrows._

"_Moving on?" she says._

_But her voice is gentle_

**December 2000**

Sunday, 8.29 a.m.

Jack looked out into the falling snow. It was early December and he dreaded the following weeks, he dreaded Christmas. It was never a time he had enjoyed, not even when his mother was still alive. Her depression usually got worse around times when other people were happy and she had never been able to pull together the strength to celebrate it the way it should be. Jack could remember his father putting up decorations, muttering to himself because at Christmas time he usually had two or three major fights a day with his wife. His father had a heavy hand and no real sense of beauty and Christmas had been a lifeless, barren thing in the Malone household. Jack had wanted to make it different for his children, and Maria with her strong sense of tradition and opinions of how things were supposed to be, had been a good partner in that. But these days the relationship between them was so strained, they could hardly talk to each other, let alone celebrate Christmas with happy faces.

Jack could not really pinpoint what the problem between them was. True, they were basically leading two separate lives. On one side were Maria and his daughters; on the other, himself and his job. Maria was working full-time, too, but somehow she seemed to take it all in her stride, whereas he was tired and worn out when he got home, unable to let go of the cases he was working on. True also that they rarely touched each other these days. But that was not what they fought about. It was about the milk he had forgotten to buy. About getting a call from the office early in the morning preventing him from bringing Hanna and Kate to school. About the tube of toothpaste that he had thrown away although it was still a quarter full. It was about him not paying attention. It was about Jack Malone being insufficient as a husband, as a father and, he thought, ultimately as a human being. That is, if they were fighting at all and not just trying to avoid each other.

Worst of all was that Hanna and Kate were beginning to feel the strain between their parents. They could sense that this time things were really bad, worse than they had ever been before. Hanna's reaction was to draw away from him. Sometimes he could see her giving him a look that reminded him of the contempt he saw in his wife's eyes. Kate on the other side was clinging to him whenever he was home; maybe afraid that someday he would leave, never to come back. It wasn't like he hadn't had thoughts like that. Life sometimes felt pretty unbearable to him these days. But he would never leave home. He could not bear the thought to leave his daughters. It was not an option.

Jack folded the _New York Times_ he had been reading and left it on the kitchen table for Maria. He put on his coat, getting ready for the short walk to work and felt his mood lighten. Life was not all totally unbearable. There were things to look forward to.

He remembered just in time that he had forgotten some papers on the desk in the bedroom and he went back, stepping lightly across the carpet in the living room. It was 8.30 a.m. on a Sunday and he didn't want to wake Maria. Hanna and Kate had spent the night at a friend's place and he was supposed to pick them up later so Maria could have a day off.

She was still asleep when he entered the bedroom and he looked at her. There was a deep frown on her face. She never really looked relaxed when sleeping and he felt a surge of guilt wash through him. She had changed over the years. She had become harder, more demanding, impatient. Jack knew that it was because of him. She needed him to be a different kind of husband, a different man. He had tried, but he had not been able to do it.

Jack picked up the papers, putting them back in their folder, closing it on the picture of a small, dark-skinned boy. The case had come in three years ago and they had never found a single lead that could have told them what happened to the toddler that vanished while camping in the mountains with his family. Their initial assumption had been that the father had hurt the kid but Jack soon became convinced that Chet Collins was innocent.He felt very strongly that Chet would never have laid a hand on his son.

With a sigh his gaze traveled out of the window, across the roofs of the city he loved. The sun was rising in the east and her golden light was reflected in the tall towers of the World Trade Center. Jack took a deep breath. The view was magnificent. He suddenly felt at peace.

8.50 a.m.

Jack stepped out of the elevator. The office was quiet. None of the team was supposed to be in today. It was their day off. It was _his _day off, too.

Guessing it might be hopeless he stretched his neck, glancing through the glass panes separating him from the bullpen. A bright, warm spark lit up inside him. Her blonde head was sticking up over one of the partitions. Jack relaxed. Everything was right with the world after all.

He went to his office. One pile of files had cascaded down to the floor in the course of the night and he picked it up grumbling to himself. He would have to take care of that pile before doing anything else. He left his door open.

After a while he heard her voice:

"Good morning, Jack."

He hid his delight well.

"Morning, Samantha," he mumbled, not lifting his head.

"Isn't this your day off?" she asked.

"I believe it's yours, too," he answered, still not looking up.

"Chet Collins called. He said he would be half an hour late for your meeting. Do you want a cup of coffee?"

"That would be great."

He couldn't help himself, he had to look up and meet her eyes. And there they were, smiling into his with their mixture of warmth and trust that he had noticed she reserved for him and him only. A rare smile appeared on his face and he couldn't believe that not even an hour ago he had thought that life was unbearable.

She walked away to fetch the coffee and he knew that she would bring a cup for herself, too, sit down in his visitor's chair and they would talk for a while.

After a minute she came back, closing the door and offering him a cup, black, the way he liked it.

"So, in what kind of coffee mood are you today?" he asked, taking a look at the golden liquid in her cup, guessing how much sugar she had put in it. She laughed at the face he made.

"Lots of milk lots of sugar, the way you detest it," she answered, tenderness in her voice and something else, a basic acceptance of who he was, something that went far beyond coffee drinking habits.

"Gosh," he said, "how can you drink that?"

"Take your cup and stop complaining,"

He took his cup and she settled comfortably down in the chair across from him, stretching her legs.

"That Kellar guy has been asking about you again," he said lightly. "He does so every time I'm down at the station. He says you two used to work together?"

"Only a short time. Right before I went to the FBI."

"He sure has got his eye on you."

"Yeah, he's a great-looking guy. Maybe I'll do something about it one of these days."

"Suit yourself," Jack said, "but I don't like him."

She gave him a teasing grin.

"Oh, how come? I think he's very attractive."

"Well, maybe if you like the type."

"So? What sort of type is that?"

The opposite of me he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. They were walking a fine line and he didn't want to flirt with her too openly, he didn't want to take it too far.

Samantha knew what his sudden silence meant and she didn't ask further. There was no use in taking this too far and regretting it afterwards. So she changed the subject.

TBC


	4. Soul Mates, Part 2

Thank you, guys, for all your support, although I'm currently not treating JS very well in the _Now_ section…But…there is a reason for it all!

And thank you, jbird, for _everything_!

* * *

**Tomorrow**

**-Chapter 2-**

_**Soul Mates, Part 2**_

When Chet Collins arrived, almost 45 minutes late, Samantha went back to her desk. She had agreed to check some phone records for one of the other teams working on a case about a hot shot lawyer, gone missing while preparing for a murder trial. One of their agents had called in sick and she had been there anyway. Samantha felt guilty about spending her day like that. She felt even guiltier because she had not come in on a Sunday because she loved her work so much, but because she had known that Jack would be there, too. She was acting like a love-sick teenager, she scolded herself. But some things couldn't be helped and as long as they both stayed rational about it, liking each other's company was no crime. Samantha knew she would stay cool about it. She had experienced first hand what damage too much passion could do, first with her parents, then in her own ill-fated marriage that had lasted for barely five months. And Jack was safe ground. He was happily married and would do nothing to jeopardize that.

She sat down at her desk, smiling to herself. The pile of phone records was inches thick but that couldn't scare Mrs. Spade's ambitious daughter. She loved her work. And later on Jack would come over to tell her what was up with Chet. She loved Jack, too and that was okay because she had it all under control and so did he. Everything was right with the world.

12.15 p.m.

Jack lifted his eyes from an hour-long intense scrutiny of the file Chet Collins had accumulated over the past couple of months since they had last talked. He didn't think there were any real leads in it but he had promised Chet to check it out and so he would. He rotated his neck and winced at the pain in the tense muscles. Deciding that he would talk things over with Samantha he pushed back his chair and stood up. Damn if his knee wasn't acting up again. He took a few hobbling steps, glad that no one could see him, using his desk as support. He felt old and used up.

When the stiffness in his leg had eased a little he limped over to the bullpen. The big office was void of activity; all the other teams were out in the field.

Jack froze when he saw the man, perching on the edge of Samantha's desk. Her face was tilted up toward him, a sweet, flirtatious expression on her features. Jack had not been prepared for that or the pain that hit him low in the gut. He had reveled in the way she had looked at him all day. Now he felt like the world's dumbest fool. He retreated a step into the shadows of the corridor, watching them and cursing himself for feeling so off balance all of a sudden.

Eric Kellar was tall, fit and handsome. He was young. He was also obviously taken with Samantha. She was so obviously taken with him. Jack thought himself a fool to think that the looks she gave him meant anything special, a fool to derive any happiness from them.

"You want to have lunch with me?" he heard Kellar say. Jack clutched the file to his chest and if he hadn't turned around in that moment he would have seen her expression change into a look that said, 'I like you but let's leave it at that'.

Samantha didn't mind a bit of light banter with Eric Kellar to relieve the headache she was developing but she was annoyed that he had gone so far as to visit her in the office. She liked him, she even found him vaguely attractive, he just was a bit too insistent for her taste. And she never felt completely comfortable in his presence, she never really felt like herself when she was near him.

Another presence was hovering on the edge of her consciousness, one that felt deeply familiar and she looked across the bullpen only to see Jack's back.

"Agent Malone," she called out without thinking and Kellar looked startled at her sudden shift of attention.

Jack turned around, stepping back into the bullpen and there her eyes were again, seeing _him_. And the way she looked at him was nothing like the way she looked at Kellar. Even if he really _was_ the dumbest fool in the world he could see that.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I totally forgot you wanted to see me."

He glanced at his watch, raising his eyebrows trying to look genuinely annoyed for Kellar's sake.

"Five minutes ago," he grumbled. "I suggest you see your suitors elsewhere."

Kellar had the decency to flush a deep red and Samantha, trying to hide her delight that Jack had been reading her mind, felt almost sorry for him. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, grabbed a random file from her desk and went after Jack, mumbling a half-choked 'Sorry' in Kellar's direction.

Eric Kellar stared after them, shaking his head, feeling sorry for Samantha. He had heard that Jack was one of the best agents in the New York office, and he hadn't earned that reputation by being kind and forgiving. The man was hard, appearing ruthless at times and willing to bend the rules out of the way as far as possible to get what he wanted. Kellar respected that and the results Malone's team produced; he just wished the guy would go a little easier on Samantha. She deserved it.

2.53 p.m.

Jack looked at his watch. The hands were closing in on three o'clock. He had promised to take his daughters to the park and barring flood, fire or a new case that was exactly what he would do. He crumbled up the paper the sandwiches had been wrapped in and threw them in the wastebasket.

"You have to go. I'm sorry I kept you," Samantha said, not feeling sorry at all.

He shook his head.

"Without your input it would have taken me much longer to sort through Chet's stuff. I've kept you. You wanted to have lunch with that Kellar guy."

"Yeah, right, that's exactly what I wanted," she said, giving him again one of those glances that made him feel wanted, loved, accepted and happy. Only this time was a little bit different.

This time he fell in love with her.

9.02 p.m.

Samantha's headache was getting worse again. She had spent the rest of the day checking out leads in the Sean Collins Case. She badly wanted that boy to be found. She thought that both his father and Jack needed some closure on it. It had surprised her when she discovered how deep emotionally Jack was involved in the case. She recognized the signs of burn out. That was something she didn't want to happen to him. But at the rate he was going it would be impossible to prevent. Sooner or later he was going to crack. For the first time she wondered how his wife dealt with his involvement in his job. She assumed that his marriage was happy. That was what she had wanted to assume. She thought back to this morning and to the emotional hunger she had seen in his eyes

"Oh my God, Miss-Always-Being-In-Control," she whispered to herself, "The ice is thinner than you thought."

"Everything okay, Samantha?"

Special Agent Jonathan Crane, who worked on the case of the missing lawyer, was leaning on the partition.

"Give me that," he ordered, pointing to the rest of the phone records she hadn't been able to look at, yet. "It's your day off. You should be out enjoying yourself."

She handed them to him and he departed, waving the papers at her.

"Thank you, appreciate your help," he called out, already halfway across the bullpen, probably on his way home to his wife and their newborn son.

Samantha heaved a deep sigh, slumping back into her chair. She put her head in her hands and rubbed at her temples. Tomorrow she would regret working all day today. Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

"I'm not even going to ask you what you're still doing here," a voice said beside her and she looked up genuinely startled, making a mental note that she really had to make sure the office was empty before acting all private.

Jack sat on the edge of her desk on the exact same spot Kellar had been in nine hours before. She checked her watch.

"You're pushing yourself too hard, Sam. I need you in prime condition, not totally overworked like this."

She swiveled around to face him.

"I forgot to check the time. I didn't plan to work all day. What are you doing back here?"

"I came back for the Collin's file. It's not on my desk. Do you have it?"

She pushed it over to him.

"What _have _you been doing all day," he asked, curious.

She motioned to the file in his hands.

"I have been following up on this, making a couple of phone calls and stuff like that. I wrote everything down. It's all in there."

He looked so taken aback that she started to apologize.

"Look, I'm sorry Jack. You probably wanted to do it yourself. I'm really sorry. I just wanted…I wrote everything down. You can check up on it if it's not good enough. I won't mind. There's some work for you left anyway. I couldn't check out all the leads because it's Sunday."

He opened the file, flipping through it, stopping to read what she had written in her meticulous handwriting. He took his time. She had reported on every lead she had followed, the questions she had asked, the answers she had gotten, the conclusions she had drawn. It was a lot of work. It was good work. She had asked most of the questions he would have asked himself and even a few he would never have thought of. It would have taken him days to be that thorough.

"It's great work. You haven't even been involved in that case but this reads as if… I would have expected this depth of involvement from Vivian maybe, not from someone who has barely…," he stopped himself because he heard his voice growing unsteady. He was touched that she had cared enough to do this.

She looked at him, shaken, because she had not seen him that unsettled since Steve died.

"Why does this case mean so much?" she asked.

"It's just one of these cases," he answered, unable to explain something to her that he had not even worked out for himself.

She took his hand. It was warm, burning with his inner passion. His responding grip was fierce.

"Thank you," he said, sounding as if she had saved his life.

Jack fought an overwhelming urge to pull her closer, to wrap her body in his arms, to rest his face against her neck, to smell that scent of hers up close. He would be at peace for a while.

'Right', a dry, rational voice was speaking up in his mind, 'and afterwards you'll be in hell forever. It's not worth it. If you do this now you won't be able to work with her anymore. Is that what you want?'

The thought that she would not be here tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, was like a squall of icy water, stinging like needles, numbing.

Gently he released her hand, shaken to the core by this sudden burst of emotion. For a while they just sat, not saying anything. He tried to recover, wondering despite himself if she would ever consider having a relationship with a man like him.

"You know," Samantha finally broke the silence, "I really don't like that."

Jack looked alarmed.

"What?"

"That Sam thing. The kids used to call me that at school, claiming I looked nothing like Humphrey Bogart. You know, Sam Spade, 'The Maltese Falcon'. It's a really, really old joke."

"What do you mean?" he asked, utterly confused.

"You called me Sam."

"I don't recall that."

"Well you did. Ten minutes ago. I heard it."

"How am I supposed to remember what I did ten minutes ago?" he said gruffly.

She gave him a bright, dazzling smile.

"Well, I don't like it."

"I'll never do it again," he promised. "By the way, where do those flowers come from?"

There were pink roses in a vase beside her computer screen. They smelled nice.

"Kellar left them at the reception," she explained. "I'm afraid he felt sorry for me. He got the impression that you treated me badly. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I can deal with Kellar. Is it something serious?"

She merely looked at him and he felt that he had to stop coming in on Sundays. It was bad for his heart.

"That's it," he said, "We're going home. I don't want to see you before lunch tomorrow, got it?"

"Aye, aye, boss."

"Good night, Sam."

"Good night, Jack."

He limped away and she slumped back in her chair, not looking after him, feeling content. Then his last words sank in.

She groaned.

Sam it was. It would never change.

TBC


	5. Moments of Transition, Part 1

Now, here is the next part with thanks to all of you who have reviewed. You know how much it means to me to get the feedback and to know that you're enjoying what I'm writing.

**Jbird** is thankfully still not tired of being my beta! It's great to have her do this!

* * *

**Tomorrow**

**-Chapter 3-**

**_Moments of Transition, Part 1_**

_**January/Now**_

"_It's not going to be the same without you," Danny says, "Are you really sure about this?"_

_They are standing in front of a street map of Manhattan, trying to figure out the pattern of sightings that has been reported. _

_Sam looks at his concerned face. In his own quiet way he has been the best of friends. She does not want to leave him. She does not want to leave any of them. But she has to get New York and all that happened here, the joy and the sorrow__ out of her system. Sometimes the best way to forget is to go away. _

"_Does Martin know?" he asks._

_He was the first one to notice that Martin had a crush on her. Sam is not sure if he knows what happened between her and Jack. He never said anything. But on this day he seems to read her mind._

"_It's obvious that you've told Jack," he says._

_Sam feels the tears pressing again. It's a stupid thing because both Jack and Martin have moved on and everything is all right, really._

"_Sam?" Danny asks again, worried now._

_She puts a hand on his shoulder. _

"_I've been stupid, Danny," she says, "I should have gone with you."_

_Grinning he touches her hand._

"_It's not too late, kiddo," he says._

"_Yeah, right."_

_They smile at each other, both knowing that their friendship doesn't extend that far._

"_So, does Martin know?" he asks again. _

"_Yes. I told him this morning when he came in."_

"_What did he say?"_

"_Nothing really. Good luck. Don't forget you have a godson in New York. What was he supposed to say?" _

"_Something like…'it won't be the same without you'?" _

_Sam looks at him fondly. She hopes he will let it go, but no such luck. Now his eyes become serious again and he says:_

"_Is Jack still mad?"_

"_He's not mad," she says, trying to be evasive, "Why should he be mad?"_

"_Come on. I can see a cloud of thunder hanging over his head. And it's not just because of the case."_

"_Don't joke, Danny," she says "It's not funny. Let it go, okay? It's not important. Show me where the last sighting was."_

_Danny goes back to concentrating on the case. But a part of his mind does not let go. When Jack and Jessica got together a year ago he had been relieved. In the years after the divorce from Maria, Jack had become hard, inaccessible and short of temper. Jessica had cracked that shell open again, at least to a certain degree. Today is the first time that Danny starts to doubt if all really is well. It is the first time he considers that things between Sam and Jack might have been more serious than he thought. _

**April 2001**

An air of neglect surrounded the abandoned storage building. Trash littered the yard where the trucks unloaded. The FBI agents, wearing the blue nylon jackets with the bold yellow letters stamped on the back, were carefully filing along one wall, their guns drawn. They approached a narrow side entrance and Jack raised the hand with the microphone to give the other team instructions. Then he looked at the agents behind him and gave them a nod with his head. Sam nodded back. She was, as always, calm and unafraid. Fragile on the outside, steel lining on the inside. It made her one of the best agents he had ever worked with.

He opened the door which gave way, moaning in its hinges. They went inside, their steps making almost no sound on the concrete floor. Methodically they began to search through the building.

After a while a voice spoke up in the receiver in Jack's ear. He recognized Vivian.

"We found her. She's in the office on the ground floor. Shaken, but all right. She said our suspect left her alone not long ago. He might still be in the building, so be careful. I'm taking her outside now."

They continued their search, going through the floors in the office tract of the building, finding no one. Eventually they gathered in the vast storage space.

Jack was sweating. He was getting a new treatment for his knee. It hadn't bothered him much lately and the cases they'd had in the past months hadn't been physically demanding. Only now he felt how profoundly out of shape he really was and it depressed him. The doctor had recommended physical therapy and suggested a less demanding job.

Jack wiped the sweat off his face and removed his jacket, scowling at the memory. He started to pull at the straps of the bulletproof vest.

"Well," he heard Sam say beside him, "at least we found her. We should check out…"

"Would you help me with this," he interrupted her, suddenly desperate to get rid of the hot weight.

"…his friend's house," she continued, raising one of her eyebrows at his misery. She made no move to help him. "You know, Jack, I really don't think you should…"

"That's our guy, watch it!" someone called out.

Before anyone could react the sound of a gunshot ripped through the air. Samantha felt a draft brush past her face and saw Jack being driven back by the impact.

More gunfire erupted and then a body detached itself from an iron beam high up under the roof, tumbling down, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

Sam didn't even cast a glance in that direction. She had dropped to her knees beside Jack, her throat so tight she couldn't call out his name. She bent over him, searching for blood. There was none. She touched his face and he groaned, opening his eyes, gasping for air.

Jack's chest hurt like fire. His head had struck the floor hard. Sam's face swam nearby and he wanted to tell her that he was all right but he couldn't get the words out. He felt her hands on his face, cool and soft. He considered just staying like that for a while, letting her hands comfort him.

"It's okay," he heard her call out, "The bullet hit the vest. He's not shot."

His vision cleared and he tried to sit up. Her arms slid around him and he leaned heavily against her body, his breath going a little easier. Their faces were inches apart. He saw the pallor of shock in her face.

"Sam?" he whispered. He felt her body start to tremble. "Deep breaths!" he gasped, "Take deep breaths. Everything's fine."

He grabbed hold of her arms, his chest still tight. Her slow, breathing started to calm him, too.

Then they were surrounded by other agents. Danny knelt beside him, looking him over.

"What about the shooter?" Jack asked, breath coming easier. "He our guy?"

"Yeah, he is," Vivian answered, "But it looks like the fall killed him. The paramedics are on their way. What about you, Jack?"

He suddenly became aware of how close Sam was and how all he wanted was to lean into her. Let the shock and the pain be taken away by her presence. He had to get a grip, pull himself together before anyone noticed how fragile he was.

"I'm fine," he said

He pushed all helping hands aside, seeing a look of confusion in Sam's eyes.

"I'm fine," he emphasized.

He managed to stand up, swaying on his feet and if Danny hadn't grabbed him he would have gone down again.

"Jesus, Jack," Vivian said, "Why don't you just take your time. He almost killed you."

"I'm fine," he said for the third time, trying to push Danny away again.

"For God's sake, Jack," Danny said. "Just let me help you…"

But Jack was not in the mood for being helped. If he had to deny himself to be helped by _her _no one else was allowed to do the job either. Childish, of course, but he couldn't care less.

"I think you banged your head pretty hard," Sam said. "You might have a concussion."

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, angry at himself. How did they miss the suspect when they searched the building? What if someone else had been shot? What if the shooter had aimed a little higher where no bulletproof vest can protect you?

His mind was still chewing on those questions when the paramedics arrived and declared the shooter dead.

000

They all sat around the conference table in the bullpen. Danny was drumming his fingers on the table, Vivien was finishing a report and Sam was pushing the photo of the woman they had saved around the polished surface of the table. Beside her sat the agent who had replaced Steve. Joseph Price was nothing like Steve Reed. Steve had been young, bright, eager to learn and maybe a little too eager to please. Joseph was a gloomy, burned-out man in his late forties pining about that he never made Supervisory Special Agent and probably never would. Sam suspected that Joseph wouldn't be with them for long. He was a candidate for early retirement. She was not sorry about that. Joseph's main occupation in the past months had been to subtly and sometimes not so subtly drag out Jack's shortcomings and mistakes. Since Jack was only human there were always a couple of those floating around.

"So, what do we learn from this?" he asked, gaze fixed across the table on Jack's slumped figure.

Vivian pushed back her chair and got up to wipe the board clean.

"Never feel too safe," she answered, "but I think we all know that by now."

"The instructions we got about clearing the top floor were ambiguous," Joseph continued.

"What can possible be ambiguous about clearing a floor? Either you clear it or you don't," Danny said.

"I wasn't up there," Joseph said, "but it wasn't taken into consideration that there was access to a crawl space over the storage facility."

"The agents found the hatch," Sam said.

"They found it too late. If Agent Malone had…"

Sam wanted to defend Jack. What Joseph tried to accuse him of was just too stupid. It had not been his job to foresee the unforeseen although she suspected that Jack felt different about that. She glanced in his direction and was stopped by his warning look.

"I wasn't thorough enough," Jack said evenly. "I think I've learned my lesson. But we all have to keep in mind how fast things can get out of control. If Agent Crane hadn't reacted as fast as he did our suspect might have shot a second time. He was alert. That's what's most important."

"Hero of the hour," Danny mumbled.

Jack tried to find a more comfortable position. He'd been checked out at the hospital. One of his ribs was cracked and a deep bruise was beginning to spread on his chest. His head hurt, breathing was painful and he felt like shit. The doctor at the hospital had promised pain-medication, but somewhere along the way the notion had gotten lost. Probably because the overworked nurse had been seriously pissed off at him. He suspected that his bad mood and gruff manner in the aftermath of the shooting had something to do with that, and, of course, he had been too proud to ask.

000

Later in the afternoon Vivian found him in his office. She sighed inwardly when she saw the awkward way he held his body and the deep frown on his face. He was pushing himself too far, he always did. She came closer, realizing that the report he was working on had something to do with performance evaluation and was not something he needed to be working on.

"We're going home," she said.

He raised his head and saw Danny and Jonathan passing behind Vivian, both giving him a short wave. He waved back.

"Have a nice evening," he said to Vivian, going back to his work.

"You should have gone home after they checked you out at the hospital."

"I'm perfectly fine, Vivian."

She knew that talking to him right now was futile.

"Fine, Jack," she said, "You have a nice evening, too."

Her irony was lost on him. He didn't even react.

"Oh, and Samantha went home half an hour ago, so you're really the last one hanging around."

There was a subtle shift in the way he held himself. So subtle that Vivian didn't quite know what to make of it. It might have been disappointment. Then he took off his reading glasses and pressed his fingers to his eyes and it became more evident – desperate longing, held under tight control.

So it is that bad, Vivian thought.

"Goodbye, Jack," she said.

"Bye, Viv," she heard him mumble before she closed the door.

TBC


	6. Moments of Transition, Part 2

**Jbird** has, as always, done a fantastic job on this and I hear she's even up to something of her own... Let's see what happens!

**Merry Christmas** to all of you! I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**Tomorrow**

**-Chapter 3-**

_**Moments of Transition, Part 2**_

**April 2001**

With Vivian gone, Jack drew the blinds and lay down on the sofa. He tried to rest but, as soon as he closed his eyes and relaxed, the pain rose to new heights. Every breath was agony. He stood up again, rummaging around in his desk drawer for a couple of minutes, hoping to find some leftover pills from the time his leg had been bad, but all he could find was a bottle of aspirin. He swore, closing the drawer with too much force, feeling like a drug addict who couldn't get a fix.

There was a knock on the door. When he didn't answer, it opened and Sam peered inside.

"Sorry, Jack," she whispered. "Do you want to be alone?"

He felt vastly relieved. Her presence alone had pain-killing abilities.

"No," he said, "come in."

She entered, carrying a small paper bag.

"This is for you," she said, handing it over.

He opened it. There was an orange paper box inside. He recognized it and smiled.

"You are my hero," he said.

"I got the extra strong ones. Is that all right?"

"It's fine. It'll do."

"Why didn't they give you anything at the hospital? We should sue them for malpractice."

Her face seemed unbelievably sweet to him. He knew that what he felt for her had to be a symptom of the misery his personal life consisted of. He had never been this smitten before. Seeing his daughters and seeing Sam were the only moments in the course of the day when he felt alive.

"I'll survive," he said, fetching a bottle of water from the bottom desk drawer and swallowing two of the pills.

Sam looked at him concerned, not sure that taking two extra strong _Motrin _was a good idea, but decided to stay out of it. He was most likely used to the stuff.

Jack settled down on the sofa, resting his head against the leather cushions.

"I'll drive you home if you want," Sam offered.

He shook his head.

She came and sat beside him, fighting the impulse to hold him.

"You scared me," she said.

"I scared myself," he confessed. "A minute later I'd have removed the bulletproof vest. Heaven knows…"

"It was good the bullet was flying at a downward angle. I felt it go right past my face. If you had been a little closer to me it might have struck higher and-"

"You felt it go past you…?" He went pale.

"Yes."

Without thinking he lifted a hand to her right cheek, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin.

"Here?" His voice was thick with emotion.

Sam was stunned by his reaction.

"No. The other side."

He lifted his other hand, cupping her face with tenderness. She couldn't believe what was happening.

"Jack," she whispered, searching to meet his eyes, but he'd already lowered his gaze. After a second his hands fell away.

It was very quiet in the office. No phone rang, no footsteps could be heard and there was only the faint hum of the traffic down on the streets. Jack didn't dare to look at her face. He had made a mistake, the worst one a superior could make towards a subordinate. She had trusted him and he should never have taken advantage of that trust. He turned his head toward her, afraid what he might see on her face, and was surprised by the look of longing there. He wanted to reach over and take her in his arms. With difficulty he pulled himself away from that precipice.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Are you?"

Trust Sam to be straightforward.

"No," he confessed.

"Then don't play games with me."

"I'm not playing. Listen, Sam…"

"If this is the part where you tell me that you didn't mean to touch me and that you are married and so on - just keep it to yourself."

She sounded upset and Jack felt panic rise in him, cursing himself that he would lose her and her trust over one weak moment.

"What do you want me to say?" he softly asked.

Tears spilled over and ran down her face.

"Don't be like everyone else. Just be honest with me."

"I-," he began, then stopped. He wanted to say: I'm married, I'm your supervisor, but for some reason the words didn't seem honest at all.

Behind her tears there was still trust. Jack took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

"You're not within my reach."

Sam smiled through her tears.

"Because…?"

"Because I'm married. Because I have two beautiful daughters. I couldn't… Sam, believe me… I… Even if…"

She decided to let him off the hook.

"It's okay, Jack." She wiped her tears away. "I think we have all been pretty shaken up today. And I was afraid we had lost you."

Against better judgment Jack's hand went up to her face again, cupping her cheek and she wrapped one hand around his wrist, laying the other against the back of his hand, leaning into his palm, closing her eyes.

"This will pass," she said.

"Yeah." But part of him hoped that it wouldn't.

"I was married once. I was eighteen, very stupid, very naïve and madly in love. I thought it would last for life."

"What happened?"

"I fell out of love once we were married. It happened very quickly. After five months we decided to get a divorce. He wasn't mean or anything, I just…fell out of love with him. I've never really trusted my feelings again, afterwards."

Her grip on his hand tightened. Jack felt a deep pain start somewhere inside him, thinking it was her way of telling him that whatever she felt for him, it wouldn't last.

"Who was he?"

"Just someone I grew up with. We went to school together. I thought I knew him. Boy, was I wrong. I guess you never really know anyone, not even after years and years…"

Her thumb caressed the inside of his wrist.

"No," Jack said, "I guess you don't."

She let go of his hand, putting some distance between them so he couldn't touch her anymore.

"We have to leave it at that, then," she said.

He could only stare at her, helpless.

"Unless you want me to transfer to another team. If you prefer…"

Panic rose in his throat like bile.

"No."

"Can we do this?"

For a while he had thought the _Motrin_ was beginning to work. Now his chest again felt tight and he couldn't breathe. She looked so cool and objective, sitting there across from him, talking with detachment about an attraction that filled up every nook and cranny of the void that had been inside him. He would not be able to shake it off. He would be able to hide it, though. It never occurred to him that she was even better at hiding things than he was.

"Yes…we can," he said.

000

It had been a hard day at court for Maria. When she came home at 7 p.m., she found that the babysitter had already left. She could tell, as the pink, furry coat that Maura wore was nowhere in sight. Alarmed, she placed her briefcase by the door.

"Hanna," she called out.

"I'm here, Mom."

She found her daughter at the kitchen table, immersed in homework.

"Hey, darling," she said, giving Hanna a kiss on the top of the head. "What about Maura? She didn't leave you alone, did she?"

Hanna looked up, gloom on her face.

"Dad sent her home."

"He's home already? Where is he?"

"He's sleeping."

Maria closed her eyes, getting angry and tried to hide it from her daughter. A couple of weeks ago, the five year old son of a co-worker had gotten out of the apartment, and taken a walk along Hudson Street to get to the fire station at the intersection of North Moore and Varick, while she was taking an afternoon nap. The incident had scared Maria and she had talked it over with Jack. They'd agreed that the children should never be unsupervised. He knew better than anyone what could happen to a child in a town like this.

"He's hurt," Hanna added.

"What?"

"He got hurt at work. He says he was in a fight. I think he was shot…"

"Where's Kate?"

"I think she's playing with her dolls."

Maria found her four year old daughter in the children's room, going through a stack of picture books, obviously deciding which one to look at. She went in to give her a relieved hug and a kiss before finding her husband.

The door to the bedroom was open. She walked in and found Jack stretched out on the bed. He opened his eyes when he heard her.

"We had an agreement," she said.

He looked totally confused and she felt her face flush with anger.

"We agreed that Hanna and Kate should never be left alone. That was barely three weeks ago and you have already forgotten."

"I'm here. They're not alone," he defended himself.

Maria despised the way he tried to worm himself out of situations like this.

"You were sleeping, Jack. You send Maura home. Hanna's in the kitchen, Kate's in her room, and you have no idea what they're up to."

"Maria…"

"Why can't you just stick with our agreements? This is irresponsible of you."

A look of irritation crossed his face and he fell silent.

"So…we're not going to talk about this again?"

"They were not unsupervised," he said. The words sounded lame in his ears. Maria tore off her scarf and flung it on the bed. When he didn't react, she left the room, fuming.

Jack rolled onto his side. This seemed to be his day for screwing everything up. He covered his eyes with one hand. For the past hour, since he had come home, he and Kate had been looking at picture books together. Kate had been delighted. Every time they had finished one, she had gone to select another. It had been a really nice hour.

He heard Maria's footsteps returning and braced himself for another round.

She came in and he heard her rummage around in the desk they shared. He didn't move.

"Hanna says you've been shot."

She sounded like a lawyer accusing him of first degree murder. It made him feel instantly guilty. She always had that effect on him. The picture of Sam's face flitted through his mind and he pushed it away, guilt deepening.

"It was nothing," he said. "I was wearing a bulletproof vest. Nothing happened. I just hit my head."

She came closer, sitting down beside him, running her fingers through his hair. He winced when she found the spot.

"Don't be a baby, Jack. Yes, that's quite a lump. Let me see where the bullet hit."

He rolled onto his back and opened his shirt, letting her examine the bruise. Then she noticed the box of _Motrin_ on the bedside table. She opened it and took stock of the contents.

"You're addicted to this stuff."

"I'm not. My knee has been better for months. I haven't-"

"You've been eating this stuff like candy and now you have an excuse to start all over again. Why don't you throw in some Xanax, too, for good measure? Knock yourself out."

She was referring to the prescription still residing on the shelves of the bathroom cupboard. Dr. Harris, the In House Counselor had prescribed it for him after Steve's suicide. He had tried to talk to her about the guilt he felt, failing Steve as a supervisor, but discovered he couldn't do it. Instead he'd settled on telling her about sleepless nights and how everything seemed pointless to him.

He had the prescription filled, but when he realized what it was he hadn't bothered to open it. His mother had been on medication like that all of her life, and she had still killed herself. There was no way he was going to touch that stuff. Besides, he was not depressed. Dr. Harris had gotten that wrong.

Maria still looked at him waiting for an answer and Jack defended himself in the only way he knew, retreating into silence.

She went away again, probably to prepare dinner and left him to battle with his own inner demons. There was nothing like an argument with Maria to bring them out into the open. Later they would have the other old argument about how his job was just too dangerous, about how bulletproof vests couldn't really protect you, and about his responsibility for his family. Jack suspected he would spend the night on the sofa.

"Daddy?"

Kate was standing beside the bed. He made room for her and she climbed up, settling safely in the crook of his arm, holding out the picture book. He opened it. For a while he forgot about everything else.

000

Sam couldn't sleep. The day's events played over and over in her head. She had tried watching television, reading a crime novel and drinking hot milk with honey. Usually one of those things was enough to put her to sleep, but tonight nothing worked. She pressed her pillow tighter to her stomach, curling up around it.

She was scared. She had tried to be rational and aloof all day, but in the dead of night, rationality was just a word and aloofness was worth nothing. She could still feel the warmth of Jack's hands on her face.

I can do this, she told herself. I can do this.

She would have to, because the alternative was to not see him anymore, and she couldn't face that. She tried to remember when exactly being in love had become something else. Something so deep she didn't have a word for it, but she couldn't remember. It had happened months ago. Today had only brought it to the surface. She thought about the things she had told him, implying that her feelings were shallow, that everything was just an infatuation that would pass in time. He had tried to be honest with her and she had not been able to be honest with him. She had left out the real reason why she had fallen out of love with Gary. She had neglected to tell him that her feelings for him didn't even come close to what she had felt for her former husband. If she had been _madly _in love then, in what way was she in love now? She didn't have a word for that either.

After a while she relinquished control. Feeling took over and washed through her like the incoming tide.

She cried herself to sleep.

TBC


	7. Meditations on the Abyss, Part 1

**Happy New Year to all of you!**

And especially to **jbird **and the guys on Maple Street. Thank you, all of you, for sticking with this story!

**

* * *

**

**Tomorrow**

_by Serataja_

**-Chapter 4-**

**_Meditations on the Abyss, Part 1_**

**_January/Now_**

_By five o'clock darkness is falling. They still haven't found the missing baby. _

_It is getting colder. There is a storm coming. It's supposed to bring a lot of snow in its wake. Sam cannot believe that tomorrow this time she will be on her way to California._

_Jack stomps into the bullpen. His mood is as dark as the gathering dusk outside._

"_They found a small cap," he says. "Martin just called. The mother identified it. It wasn't covered with snow, so it had been dropped recently. My guess is both the baby and the kidnapper are still in the park. Sam and Viv, we're going back there. Danny, stay with the phones."_

_He gestures out into the steadily increasing fall of snow._

"_She's still out there. We don't have much time."_

**August 2001**

"Danny?"

Danny looked up, perched on the edge of the conference table, coffee cup raised to his lips. Sam came toward him, shaking her head, a questioning look on her face.

"What happened to our suspect? I thought…"

Danny grinned.

"You're not up to date anymore. After you had gone I got a call from NYPD. Eric Kellar. Wanted to talk to you. What about your cell by the way? Did you turn that off?"

"I had to. They're not allowed in the ICU. Never mind, tell me what happened."

"Well, he wanted to talk to you. I said you weren't in, and I have to tell you he was _very_ disappointed…" He took a sip of coffee, smiling.

"Danny…"

"Oh yeah, the case, well…"

"Danny, please, what happened? You didn't give him over to the NYPD, did you? I'll never forgive you. That kid is innocent - I don't care what that creepy teacher of his says."

"And that's why I jumped at it when Kellar told me they had pulled the body of an unknown male out of Hudson River."

"They found him?"

"Yes, it was him. I identified the body, then got his wife to come down to the morgue. It's him."

"Oh God, I still hoped he just had skipped town. Any evidence?"

"Here it comes… Of course, every trace would have been washed away by the river, right?"

Sam merely nodded.

"But you know that I'm a very observant guy…?"

"Danny," she growled, "Come on, I can't stand this any longer."

"Well, to make a long story short, his wrists were tied with her belt."

"Her belt…?"

"Yeah, a braided leather belt." He took another sip, waiting for her reaction.

"Wait, Danny, I'm sure there are thousands of belts like that."

"You remember the pictures she showed us? Of her, Kevin Parsons and his wife? Telling us how good friends they all were, and how that kid Jason was really the only one she could think of that would hurt him; everyone else loved him?" He waited for her nod and continued: "In one of those pictures she was wearing a belt like that."

Sam started to say something but he raised his hand: "Just hear me out."

"Okay."

"There was a lining sown on the inside of the belt. Some of it had ripped off. The missing piece was still caught in the belt loop of the jeans she had been wearing. The CSIs matched it. It's a foolproof case."

He raised his hand again, palm outstretched and Sam gave him a high five.

"Way to go, Danny."

They were both grinning, elated that the teenager, who was suspected of murdering his math teacher over some bad grades, was off the hook. His sports teacher had pointed them in his direction.

"So," Sam asked, "what was the motive?"

"The usual. She had an affair with Kevin. He didn't want to leave his wife. She thought she couldn't live without him. Kellar got her to confess. Crime of passion."

Sam felt a nasty feeling lodge itself in her gut.

"She killed him because he didn't want to leave his wife for her?"

"Yeah."

"She can't have loved him then."

"Or she loved him too much."

"That's not love. It's sick," Sam said. Suddenly she longed to see Jack. He and Vivian had been gone to Alaska on a case for the past three days.

"I know, Sam," Danny confirmed, "but, you know, these things happen."

"Passion makes idiots out of people. Now she'll have to live without him for the rest of her life," she said. "I think I need a cup of coffee, too."

Danny followed her over to the coffee machine.

"It doesn't make much sense, does it? I guess passion never does. So," he motioned toward Jack's office, "Jack and Viv are still enjoying their field trip, huh? I'm glad I didn't have to go to Alaska of all places. Anything new on their case?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't really know. I haven't heard from him or Viv in the last 24 hours. Viv seemed to think they weren't really getting anywhere."

She poured herself a cup and they sat down at the conference table. Two weeks ago a woman named Felicia Felton had gone missing. She was 36 years old, married, with a teenage daughter and six year old twin boys. The family had been frantic with concern. Felicia had been on antidepressants since the twins were born, and a friend of hers told the FBI she had talked about killing herself.

Jack had taken the case surprisingly hard, all but promising he would find her and get her back alive. Sam was glad he hadn't. She had a bad feeling about this case.

Yesterday evening, Felicia's daughter had been admitted to NYU Downtown Hospital after being hit by a car. The driver claimed she had jumped out in front of him.

"Anything on the daughter?" Danny asked

"I don't think she tried to kill herself, Danny. The whole family has been pretty distracted and she misses her mother, but I'm almost sure it was an accident. I think the driver was speeding. She said she didn't see him until it was too late. It's a wonder she survived at all."

"They didn't need that."

"No," Sam said, thinking about the distraught father she had met at the hospital. "They sure didn't."

She looked around the office. It was only early afternoon and everyone was busy. Danny had already wiped the whiteboard clean.

"Reports?" he asked, with a nasty grin.

Sam groaned. He slid the file over the desk. She stopped it with one hand, using the other one to cover her eyes in mock despair.

"Come on, kiddo," he said. "You're so much better at this than I am. Your sense of detail and your deft use of language to convey-"

She interrupted him, grinning:

"You know, Danny, that's just not true. Jack was very impressed with your report on the Slightman case."

Danny snorted laughter.

"He wasn't impressed; he was complaining that it took him two hours to read through it all."

"That's what I mean, Danny. Keep up the good work. You get started with this. I'll just put the rest of these files on Jack's desk and then I'll phone him and Viv and tell them about the daughter. I'll help you with it afterwards, okay?"

Danny clutched his chest dramatically but then set to work without further complaint. Sam went to Jack's office to make the phone call, hoping she would get a chance to talk to him on a more personal level. For the past three days it had been only her and Danny. Joseph had been on sick leave for two months with a viral infection that refused to go away and Sam doubted they would see him again.

She was about to punch in the phone number when she saw Vivian coming down the corridor. A jolt of delight went through her. She expected Jack to be right behind her, wondering why they hadn't called ahead.

Vivian stopped, leaning on the doorjamb, exhaustion and irritation on her face.

"Vivian, you're back." Sam scanned the corridor. "What happened to Jack?"

Vivian exhaled slowly.

"He's still in Crossville."

Felicia Felton had last been seen at Anchorage International Airport. It had been a mystery what she was doing there. Her husband had claimed she had been born and raised in North Nevada. When the FBI found out that everything she had told her family about her childhood had been a lie, he had been crestfallen.

"Crossville?" Sam asked.

Vivian came inside and sat down in Jack's visitor's chair.

"We hit a pit of snakes," she said.

"The last thing I heard was that you weren't getting anywhere. Van Doren asked when you were both coming back all day yesterday. She said she couldn't reach you on the cell phones."

"The service in Crossville is pretty bad. Jack managed to talk to her this morning, though. She authorized his stay. They have one police officer for an area as big as New York State, and the agents in our field office in Anchorage are up to their necks in other cases. There is no way we can leave this to the local authorities. "

"The pit of snakes?"

"Yeah. I'll fill you in. But first…Jack can't handle this alone. He needs another agent there. I reserved a flight for you with American Airlines. It leaves at Newark at 4 p.m. You'll have to change at O'Hare in Chicago and you'll be in Anchorage at 6 p.m. local time. Jack will be waiting for you."

Sam stared at Vivian, her mouth open in surprise.

"If you go home now to pack you should be able to make it."

"But, Vivian…I mean…why didn't you stay? Did Van Doren authorize this?"

Vivian sighed.

"Listen, I had an argument with my family about this. We're supposed to go upstate to visit Marcus' parents and celebrate his birthday. We've been wanting to do this for the last three years and there's always something coming up to prevent it. He threatened to leave me…"

"Vivian…"

"No, it's okay, he wasn't serious. Not yet anyway. I just have to do this. Van Doren had a fit, but she authorized for you to go."

Sam shrugged her shoulders, trying very hard to look indifferent. But a glow of pleasure was forming inside her. Not only would she be seeing Jack in a couple of hours, she would be able to work closely with him for a couple of days. She checked her watch.

"You better update me on that pit of snakes then."

000

Sam looked out of the window at the widespread pattern of plains and forests, roads and rivers far below her. They were supposed to touch down at Anchorage Airport in a couple of minutes. Part of her mind was busy going through the details of the case as Vivian had relayed them. Another part, not entirely conscious of its doings, imagined how she would step through the doors into the arrivals area and Jack would be standing there, waiting for her. He would look indifferent and businesslike, and she would search his eyes for that other look, the one he reserved for her only. The one she hadn't seen for some time, now.

Felicia Felton, born Carpenter, had never been Felicia Carpenter at all. She had changed her name legally 18 years ago. Patricia Gale had been born and raised in Crossville, Alaska, four hours north of Anchorage. It was a small town at the conjunction of two rivers, with only 150 inhabitants. Jack and Vivian had been busy conducting interviews, and they had soon discovered thatthe whole case was not just about the disappearance of Felicia anymore. It was about a teenage girl who had witnessed the massacre of her family, in a cabin in the woods by the Cross River in July of 1981. It was about a girl who had left Crossville in the fall of '81 to take on a new life and a new identity. It was about a killer, who had slain four people and had never been found. And it was ultimately about what had prompted Felicia Felton to return after all these years.

There were lots of open questions and, as of now, very few answers.

000

Sam was unprepared for the sharp wind when she stepped out on the gangway. It was the end of August and she had assumed that it would still be fairly warm outside, even in Alaska. But the air bore the unmistakable fresh smell and chilliness of coming fall. She scolded herself naïvely for not checking up on the weather reports. She was acting like a typical city-dweller, oblivious of the forces of nature. She, of all people, should know better. She had grown up in a small town in the middle of nowhere, the trailer insufficiently heated by the gas-stove all winter long, her mother frazzled and frustrated by the poor surroundings; the car that wouldn't start in the dead of winter, and prevented her from getting to work in time. It had been tough times to get through and Sam had tried very hard to forget them.

The suitcases were slow in coming as she stood before the unmoving conveyor belt, tripping from one foot to another, chilled by the short walk from the airplane. Right now she was not feeling like an FBI agent, she was not thinking about the case; her whole mind was trained on the man waiting for her outside. He had been away with Maria on a weekend without the kids two months ago, and since then he had been distant. Sam assumed it had been an effort to revive their marriage which, she knew by now, was in big trouble. Not that he had told her anything about it; _that_ she had been able to detect by herself. She had dreaded to see him come back happy and invigorated from the trip, but he had merely seemed calm, maybe a bit more detached than usual. And he had seemed to have drawn back from her, being extremely careful not to touch her, not to say anything that could be construed as flirting. It had hurt, and she missed the look in his eyes. These days he was looking at her as if she was a stranger.

When the conveyor belt finally started, she was relieved. She saw the suitcases go by, looking out for her own, lost in her thoughts. When the last of the passengers were about to leave, she finally realized her suitcase wasn't going to arrive. The Lost Luggage counter was unattended. Sam took a deep breath. She was cold, she was hungry, the muscles in her neck were sore, and she thought she might be developing a cold. She set out to find someone who could help her.

When she entered the arrivals area an hour later,she was stressed out and ready to blow a fuse.

She looked around. Jack was nowhere to be seen. She felt tears start in her eyes. On top of everything, he was letting her down, too.

TBC


	8. Meditations on the Abyss, Part 2

Here, finally, is the next chapter. Thank you, as always, to **jbird** for her great beta-work. And thank you all for the reviews that I've received so far! Now, let's go on with the story.

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 4-**

**_Meditations on the Abyss, Part 2_**

**August 2001**

"Sam, thank God, there you are," Jack said right behind her.

She turned around, confused at first, because he didn't look like the New York FBI Agent she had come to know. He was wearing jeans, hiking boots, a woolen sweater and fiberfill vest; he looked as if he belonged in that kind of outfit.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his voice edgy with concern. "I've been on the phone with Vivian several times in the last hour. We couldn't figure out what had happened to you. I was just about to call in Airport Security-"

She'd had enough. She was fed up, and this was the final straw.

"I've been held up in the tiny, stuffy office of an incompetent airline employee," she told him in a low and furious voice. "He tried to find out where the hell my suitcase went. It's probably on its way to Honolulu by now, and you know what, Jack? I wish I was on the same flight. And if you are so equally incompetent in doing your job that you can't even find one of your agents in a small backwater airport calling itself international…"

"Whoa, whoa…" Jack said, trying to slow her down.

"I didn't even get a cup of coffee," she hissed at him.

He narrowed his eyes. Sam wrapped her arms around herself, shivering a little in the drafty hall.

"Sam…"

"Don't you dare say anything, just-"

Without further ado she was wrapped in a hug, her arms were trapped against his chest, her nose buried in the soft, warm wool of the sweater. She took a trembling breath, drawing in the smell that was him and that she loved right along with the rest of the man. She felt him rest his cheek against her hair. His warmth began seeping into her body.

"This is the first time I've seen you lose it," he mumbled close to her ear, fascinated that this woman, who could stand a suspect down fearlessly and without blinking, would be bothered by a lost suitcase.

"I'm not losing it," she mumbled against his chest, trying to sound dignified, "I was merely being hysterical. I'm a woman. It's my prerogative."

She could hear the chuckle starting deep in Jack's throat.

"And this is the first time I've heard a woman admit that she might be hysterical. I've seen worse, though. Much worse, believe me."

For a moment his arms were holding her even closer and she wondered what he was thinking. Did he feel safe in touching her, now that they were thousands of miles away from New York and the people who knew them?

She was starting to relax when he released her and held her at arms length.

"You are freezing," he said, not quite meeting her eyes. "Didn't you bring a jacket?"

She rolled her eyes. What kind of investigator was he?

"It's in my suitcase," she explained impatiently, "which is on the way to God knows where."

He smiled at her, not minding her irritation, with a rare light in his eyes. It was in that moment that she lost the rest of her heart to him.

He saw her expression change and grew unsure of himself. She had all but told him a couple of months before that the feelings they had for each other would pass in time. Maybe her feelings for him had changed already; maybe he had taken too much for granted.

The arriving passengers of the next flight were streaming into the arrivals area. There were hugs and kisses everywhere, and no one cast a second glance at the man and the woman, standing off to one side, pretty much lost in each other.

Jack took off his fiberfill vest and made Sam put it on. It was far too big, but she wrapped it around herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jack was still looking at her.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm glad you're here," he said.

Sam sneezed. She was definitely developing a cold. She raised her eyes.

When he didn't get the reaction he expected, he stressed the point one more time.

"I'm _really_ glad you're here."

Now a small smile curled her lips.

"I'm really glad I'm here, too, if that means that you'll treat me again like someone you actually know."

Strained lines appeared around his eyes.

"Sam…"

"You've been treating me like a stranger, lately. Please, don't ever do that to me again."

"So you noticed…"

"Are you kidding, Jack? If you've made up with your wife, I'm happy for you, but does that really mean you have to treat me like some random acquaintance?"

He was at a loss for words. She was thoroughly throwing him off balance.

"I'm attracted to you, Jack," she said in a low voice, telling him a fifteen percent truth. It never occurred to her until years later that he hadn't seen past those words, that he had never understood how much she loved him. "And I understand that you have a family. I'm fine with that. Just don't treat me like I'm poison."

Of course she wasn't really fine with any of this, but there was no way she could bring herself to tell him the truth. That would be like begging and she had never begged for anything in her life.

"Sam…" He struggled for words, finally settling on a lame: "I'm sorry."

But she continued to look at him as if she was still waiting for something. He had no idea what she wanted to hear. She sneezed again, shivering a little and pulling the fiberfill vest tighter around her. Jack touched her arm.

"You're still cold. I think I have a blanket in the car."

It was not so much his words but the look in his eyes that told her the truth. He had not been pulling back from her because he had lost interest. He had been pulling back because whatever it was between them, was threatening to become too strong to handle safely.

Too strong to resist.

To Jack's complete surprise Sam threw her arms around his neck, hugging him full-length and he could feel her body on every inch of his. Rational thought took a leave of absence. He was only just able to suppress a moan and stay on his feet, although his knees felt like jelly. The desire to be touched by her again, tenderly, was so strong that everything else around him descended into a fog.

000

The weekend with Maria had started out on a good note. They had stayed for two nights in a small hotel on Long Beach Island. The weather had been beautiful and they had taken long walks, eaten lobster and talked about their girls, their last holiday - which had been almost two years ago - and the view. Everything had been fine, and Jack had felt good about his marriage for the first time in ages. They'd actually had fun together.When the evening had come and they'd been alone in their hotel room, she had let herself be seduced quite easily. Jack had been touched and pleased, being very gentle and taking it slow as always, as she tended to be uncomfortable when he was too passionate. Still, she had been more unresponsive than usual and that had taken away a lot of the pleasure for him. Afterwards he had summoned up his courage and asked her what was wrong. They didn't usually talk about this sort of thing, and she hadn't wanted to talk about it right then. He had tried to make light of the whole situation by pointing out that she was using the line that was usually his. That had made her laugh.

They had talked some more and after a while she had finally confessed that, since Kate was born, she hadn't really enjoyed sleeping with him any more.

Jack had been hurt, feeling rejected but then she had told him, quite convincingly, it wasn't his fault; she just didn't feel the need. And she had added:

"I wish you weren't so insistent all the time."

That remark had plunged him into half an hour of extensive soul-searching. She had been reading and finally he had turned toward her again, and asked her what exactly she meant. In a slightly impatient way, she had told him that he was just too insensitive to her needs, had been so for years and that he really needed to work on it.

Jack had tried to work that out for another ten minutes,before coming to the conclusion that she was probably right, but feeling at a loss what to do about it. She had told him so often that he was away too much, that she needed him to be at home, and that she needed him to pay more attention. Now, when he was finally doing just that, she gave him the feeling he was coming on too strong.

"Why did you never tell me?" he had asked.

Maria had laughed out loud.

"Jack, I'm telling you several times a day. You're just not listening."

After a while she had added:

"You never listen."

Afterwards, Jack had known that he had been stupid to fall into that old trap again. They had argued for the better part of an hour without resolving anything. In the end, she had gone on to talk about his 'psychological flaws', his childhood - which she called unhappy - and what his job was doing to him. He had heard it all before, so he stopped listening. Her ranting had become worse, and he had felt guilty when he realized that he was doing precisely what she accused him of.

After a while she had calmed down.

In the end he had reached for her again, trying to tell her that he was sorry.

"Not now, Jack," she had replied, pushing him away. "I'm really tired."

Jack had stayed awake for hours after that.

He had thought about the day they had married. Her parents had been there, pleased and catholic to the core, proud that their only daughter was about to marry a former soldier, someone who had been prepared to give his life for his country. Jack's father, a soldier as well, though recently retired, had not come to the service. He hadn't set foot inside a church since his wife killed herself and would never again. Of course that had not been the explanation Jack gave his future parents-in-law.

In his mind, Jack had still heard the words he had spoken on that day: '…For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part.'

Although his faith had been waning already then, he had intended to stay true to those words, but on that night he had started to doubt if he could really see it through. They had been working on the 'for worse' part for a while now and things had not been improving. This was not the way he wanted his marriage to be. Maria seemed to be quite happy keeping him at arms length, while demanding that he be at home more often, but he needed something else. Above all he was extremely tired of having to justify himself at every turn of the road.

The rest of the weekend they had been polite like two strangers. She had permitted him a small kiss on the second night and that had been it. Back in New York, they had continued to share a bed - on the nights he didn't choose to stay on the sofa - but she had not let him touch her.

Once he had stopped being angry, Jack had wanted to make it work after all. And for the first few weeks everything had been fine. Maria had been more relaxed than in years and that had made him feel relieved.

But even if he'd had a release for the tension that was continually building up in him, there was something else that he could not have ignored forever. He told himself, over and over again, that his growing attraction for Sam – and to tell the truth if it grew much further he'd probably spontaneously combust one of these days – was just part of his overall frustration and had nothing to do with love at all. The problem was that he didn't really have his feelings under control any more. He was hanging on to a fine thread.

000

Sam felt that his reaction was a bit more than she had bargained for. She released him, bringing a few feet of distance between them, and raising one hand in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry, Jack. I shouldn't have done that."

He shook his head, shocked into silence by his own need for her.

"We have to buy you some clothes," he finally managed to say.

Sam let him lead her out of the airport to the SUV he had rented. He held the door for her and waited until she had settled down before closing it. Then he climbed in beside her, but he didn't start the car, staring out of the windscreen instead, seeing nothing.

Sam hadn't expected to find him so vulnerable. She hadn't realized how much she depended on him to keep just the right distance. Now she could barely hold herself back from reaching out for him. With a touch of bitterness she thought back to a time when she thought she had everything under control.

He took a deep breath.

"Sam, I don't want to do this."

She turned her head to look at him, suddenly afraid.

"Do what?"

He fought an inner battle. Part of him wanted very badly, more than anything in the world to give in and take whatever she was willing to offer. Another part, wanting someone else to blame, was cursing Maria. If she hadn't kicked him out of her bed for the past two months he would have been all right…most likely have been all right. Well, _maybe_ he would have been all right.

With a sinking heart he realized that it probably wouldn't have made a difference.

But there were other things to consider, too.

"Sam, what is the most important thing in you life?"

She didn't have to think.

"My work," she lied.

He nodded, believing her words.

"Hanna and Kate are the most important parts of mine."

"And you can't lose them."

He was quiet.

Sam stared down at her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms. She realized that she had made the major mistake of underestimating her own feelings for him. Control, what a joke… She could control these feelings as little as she could control whether it rained or snowed. She was so close to tears she didn't dare to look up or make a sound. No, this was not something to be controlled, and since there seemed to be no way to resolve it, she had only one other option – to endure. She forced her hands open and fastened her seatbelt.

"I told you, Jack, it's fine," she said, surprised at how normal her voice sounded.

"I…," he cleared his throat, "I just need you to…uh…keep your…"

"I'll keep my distance, Jack, it's fine."

"It's not that I don't…"

"I understand, Jack, you don't have to explain," she said.

Silence spun out and finally, he started the car. She was startled when he reached over and took her hand.

"Look at me, Sam."

She turned her head.

"I need to know that you're okay."

She smiled a little.

"Jack, I'm…"

"You're fine, I know, but I need you to be honest with me."

She could feel a tear slip out of the corner of one eye and looked away. His fingers tightened their grip.

"Talk to me."

It took a couple of moments before she could speak.

"Tell me about the case."

"Sam."

She turned toward him again and their eyes locked.

"Please, Jack, just tell me about the case."

So he did, and while they were driving toward Anchorage the details of the case and the requirements of the work brought back at least a semblance of balance.

TBC


	9. Meditations on the Abyss, Part 3

Dear reviewers, your reviews have totally blown me away.! I'm so very pleased that you all enjoy the story. I just hope I can live up to it as the story continues.

And, as always, a big THANK YOU to **Jbird**, who has managed to edit this chapter despite the worm-virus that is eating its way through her PC... I hope you find a way to kill it, very soon.

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 4-**

**_Meditations on the Abyss, Part 3_**

**August 2001_  
_**

The sales assistant thought it a shame that the couple, who had come in just as she was about to close up, had obviously had a fight. The woman was beautiful, with a melancholy slant to her eyes. She had declined help and, with a sure hand, started to pick out clothes that suggested they were about to spend the weekend hiking, or maybe staying in a cabin in the woods. She was quiet and sad, and didn't once look to her husband for approval which, in the sales assistant's experience, meant they were having some serious trouble. The husband was older than his wife, but handsome and rather irresistibly attractive with his dark, brooding looks –so the sales assistant thought. He made no move to suggest what she should buy, but didn't look bored, either, as husbands usually did when they came in to shop with their wives. Instead he stood off to one side, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes alert, taking in the room and the other customers. If it hadn't been for the clothes he was wearing, the sales assistant would have believed him to be a cop or someone working security.

After a while the woman came back from the changing room, now clad in jeans and a warm sweater. She caught one hopeless look in her direction, which the man tried to hide, as soon as she emerged. For a moment it seemed as if she was about to go over to him. From behind the cash register, the sales assistant watched with breathless anxiety. She was well versed in the ups and downs of relationships between the opposite sexes. She knew all about the heartbreak associated with it. She was watching two dozen different soaps and sitcoms every week and she had seen it all. To her eternal regret the woman held herself back. She walked right past the poor guy, dumping the rest of her purchases on the counter and taking her credit card out of the wallet.

"Jack," she said without looking at him.

"Yes, Sam?" he asked, all his attention turned toward her.

"I'm really hungry."

The look that appeared on the man's face gave the sales assistant serious heart-flutter. It was a combination of protectiveness and adoration, but the beautiful woman didn't notice, instead she checked her watch and started to apologize.

"I know it's getting late, Jack. I guess I can wait until…"

"We'll get you something to eat."

The sales assistant wanted to cheer, but instead she had to concentrate on her task at hand. A few minutes later the two of them left the store and walked out of her life forever. Oh, how she would have liked to know how that story would end.

000

Jack bought Sam a pair of rubber boots, claiming they were essential. Afterwards she went into a drugstore to buy a toothbrush and some other basic necessities. Jack waited outside. She could see his broad back through the display window, his shoulders hunched against the wind.

She was happy to find they also had an aisle with underwear. She averted her eyes from the section with the more provocative stuff, going for the simple bras and panties, basic white cotton without any frills. It was not as if anyone would see her wearing it. It was not as if Jack would ever see her wear it. That thought brought a sudden painful stab. Sam wondered what was wrong with her. She didn't usually get that emotional over something she could not change.

When she came out of the store, Jack looked at her.

"You got everything you want?"

"I have. Thank you, Jack. I appreciate-"

"There's a restaurant right across the street. You warm enough in that jacket?"

"It's fine, Jack, really," she said, neglecting to tell him that she was still cold.

He looked as if he didn't entirely believe her, but kept quiet.

There was an awkward silence between them while they were eating. Sam had been ravenously hungry, but now she could hardly get anything down. She left half the food on the plate, while Jack ate with a healthy appetite. From time to time he glanced over at her, a worried frown on his face, but she didn't meet his eyes. He started to talk to her about the case, and after a while she stopped pushing the food around and just listened to him.

It seemed as if Felicia had dropped from the face of the earth. No one had seen her. The only relative she had left in Alaska was an aunt, living up in Barrow. She hadn't heard from Felicia since she had left the state twenty years ago. The friends she knew from her childhood, who weren't living in Crossville any more, had been checked out, and they all claimed they hadn't seen her. Jack admitted that they had nearly run out of options.

His face was tense and drawn while he talked about his efforts, and Sam knew that he feared it was already too late.

"My guess is she'll show up in Crossville sooner or later," she told him. "There's no reason for her to come all the way to Alaska just to kill herself. She's got unfinished business. Whoever killed her family has never been found. I think she's looking for closure."

"Her twin brothers were killed," Jack said. "They were six years old, the same age her sons are now. Maybe they reminded her of what happened then. It might have brought the whole thing on."

The waiter passed the table and Jack ordered another cup of coffee.

"I have to stay awake," he said with a smile when he saw Sam's raised eyebrows. "We have a long drive ahead of us. We could stay in Anchorage, of course, but I would really like us to get on with the interviews in the morning. We've lost half a day as it is."

"Because of you driving down and picking me up?"

"No, because Vivian's husband thought his birthday was more important than the case and because Vivian let herself be blackmailed. It's got nothing to do with you."

"You're hard on them," Sam said quietly.

His eyes grew dark and she saw a look in them she had seen before, a fierce commitment to his cause.

"Back in New York a family is hoping its mother will come back alive. That's my priority, not people celebrating their birthdays." The way he said it made celebrating a birthday almost sound illegal. Sam bit her lip to hide a smile.

"I think it can be hard for someone on the outside to understand," she said. "Especially when the work's constantly interfering with how you lead your life, or your family's life."

"Marcus married an FBI agent. He knew what he was getting into."

"Did your wife know?"

She immediately wished she hadn't said anything. The look on his face told her that she had hit right home. His gaze was hard to read. If she had known his story back then,she might have been able to decipher the stubbornness in his eyes, covering up his helplessness and the despair he always felt when a case threatened to go bad.

He looked down at his hands and, for a moment, he seemed enveloped in an utter loneliness.

"She didn't know," he said after a while. "I've never been very good at making Maria understand."

Sam thought he was laying too much of the blame at his own door but didn't say so. Whatever was between him and his wife was none of her business.

She felt him staring at her.

"What?"

He reached out and lightly touched one of her hands.

"You're shivering and your hands are cold. Are you still freezing?"

She opened her mouth.

"Will you please stop telling me that it's fine? Are you all right?" he demanded.

She gave in. It was hard to resist Jack Malone.

"I'm still cold," she said. "And I'm tired. Maybe we should get on our way."

000

Back at the car he gave her the blanket and tucked her in. He was fussing a bit over her, asking if the seat was comfortable, checking the seatbelt, adjusting the headrest until he thought it was in the right position. When he asked her if her feet were warm enough she gave him a small punch on the arm.

"Stop it Jack," she said, "I'm fine."

He laughed out loud, something she had never heard him do before.

"And I," he said, "know exactly what the word 'fine' means in Sam Spadish."

He was close. She smiled brightly at him, one part of her wondering if he had forgotten about the 'keeping your distance' thing. If so, he had an awfully short memory. But she would be the last person to remind him. She was not going to resist him; she didn't have the strength any more.

Jack was aware that he was getting too close again. He had been getting too close to her ever since he'd found her at the airport - hell, ever since he'd met her for the first time. He'd had every intention of being strong, for his family's sake and for Sam's sake, but in that moment the temptation was overpowering. New York was so far away. It almost felt like another life. New York was a dream and this was reality.

The rational voice in his head was mute and the only thing he could think of, leaning over her while he checked her seatbelt for the third time, was that no one would ever know if he kissed her now. It would stay between the two of them, it would only be one kiss, only one kiss to find out how she tasted. How could he go on with the rest of his life without knowing that?

Their faces were close together. He felt her breath on his skin. Then her eyes fluttered shut.

He kissed her slowly, tasting her lips like someone tastes dessert, finding out if it is as delicious as it looks. His kiss deepened, because her lips were warm and moist and open and she tasted so good…She tasted like heaven. He was floating on a stream of bliss. Her hands were gripping the collar of his vest, holding him close. He couldn't move away and didn't mind at all. He kissed her even deeper, feeling her suck his tongue into her mouth.

He never knew how long the kiss lasted, having no control over his senses anymore. Finally they pulled an inch away from each other, catching their breaths. He was trembling all over with suppressed desire. The last time that had happened to him, he had been barely 21 years old. She pulled him close again, crushing her lips to his. 'Only one kiss' became two in the matter of a second.

Jack became aware of her hands stroking the back of his neck. He pulled away from her lips, resting his face against her cheek, relishing the caress. He wanted to say her name but held it back, because he was afraid of how his voice might sound.

It was a while before he recovered enough to understand what he was doing. He was crouching over her in an awkward position and he could feel his knee start to hurt. He grabbed the roof of the car to stabilize himself, standing up. Sam uttered a small moan. She reached up for him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, closing the door on her side, going around to the driver's side and getting in.

He started the car, put it into transmission and reached for her hand. Their fingers entwined. He was afraid she would ask questions, about what he was doing, about his family, about what he had said two hours ago. But she was merely caressing his hand, her eyes closed, her head leaning back against the headrest. She looked exhausted. There were purple shadows beneath her eyes.

Jack pulled out of the empty parking lot, heading northwards. It was dark and through the windshield he caught a glance of the multitude of stars littering the sky. There was little traffic and driving with one hand on the wheel was safe enough for now.

'Only this once', he thought to himself, 'only while we're here. Back in New York things will go back to normal again.'

He pushed all other thoughts aside. This was one of the few times in his life that he managed to live only in the moment, without thoughts of the past or fear of the consequences. Looking back at it years later, he would always realize how disgustingly weak he had been. And he would feel guilty; not for being weak, no, he would feel guilty because he didn't feel guilty about it at all.

TBC


	10. Meditations on the Abyss, Part 4

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 4-**

_**Meditations on the Abyss, Part 4**_

Sam woke after dozing for a couple of minutes. She felt warm and content. Maybe she was not getting a cold after all. Maybe the cold had been scared off by the kiss. She chuckled at the thought and felt Jack's hand tighten around hers.

"Hey," he said. It was the first word he had spoken since they set out from Anchorage an hour ago. It had been a good silence. You can say a lot without words if you hold a person's hand in your own.

"Hey yourself," she said, reaching over and running her fingers through his hair. He made a low, half-choked sound.

"Sam…" he started to say, and she could almost see the thoughts, about what consequences this could have, running through his brain.

She rested her hand on his shoulder, waiting. When he didn't say anything, she started to stroke his neck with her fingers. He smiled, heaving a deep, contented sigh that made her heart ache. He seemed so hungry for her touch, like a starving man in the desert.

There were a thousand questions in Sam's mind, but she decided they could all wait until later. She didn't want to spoil the moment; she didn't want to spoil the one time they could be together. This was today, and tomorrow would take care of tomorrow.

000

Sam woke from an uneasy sleep. She could feel Jack's hand on her forehead. He had stopped the car and turned on the overhead lights. Around them there was only darkness. It would have been scary if she had been alone. With him she didn't want to be anywhere else.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered.

Her mouth was parched and her throat hurt. She swallowed painfully.

"Not so good," she said.

"You were moaning in your sleep and you're hot to the touch. I think you're running a fever."

Sam groaned. That was the last thing she needed. Jack gave her a bottle of water and she drank in small sips.

"My throat's really painful," she told him. Now she wished she had bought some medicine back at the drugstore. She hadn't thought it necessary at the time.

"I have some aspirin in my room in Crossville." He checked his watch. "Another half hour if all goes well."

"I'll be all right until then."

He cupped her face in his hands and looked at her with undisguised tenderness.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said.

"For what?"

"For not being a help, but a burden."

"You're no burden," he said, his fingers caressing her cheek.

"I hope I didn't infect you… earlier…"

"I'll be fine. I don't fall ill easily."

He pondered if the way he felt about her could be considered an illness. He was smitten like there was no tomorrow. He was falling deeper every passing minute.

He released their seatbelts and put his arms around her. She snuggled into him, trembling.

"Are you _still _cold?" he asked alarmed.

"It's the fever," she responded in a drowsy voice.

After a while he released her, pulling the blanket tighter around her, with a determined frown on his face. He had to get her to Crossville and into a proper bed, but he worried about their accommodations. There was no hotel in Crossville and he was staying in the guesthouse behind the local church. There was a room for her, too, but everything was pretty basic, and he doubted how effective the heating was. It was not the right place for taking care of her.

000

Jack saw the tree in good time and brought the car to a stop. It had fallen across the road, and was effectively blocking passage. There was no way around - with a steep slope, couple of trees on one side, and the woods on the other - and it was too big to be moved. He climbed out of the car and went to inspect it. There was dirt on the road and Jack suspected that the tree had been the victim of a minor landslide. It had been raining a lot this last week of August and now that September was coming there was more to expect. Already he had been confronted with lots of mud, and he was glad he had insisted on buying the rubber boots for Sam,even if she didn't think were necessary.

He went back to the car and got in. Sam was looking at him with eyes glazed by fever.

"Ever hear of Murphy's law?" she asked.

"Who hasn't?" he muttered. "It's the one law that never fails."

The chill was creeping into the car and he shut the door to keep it out. It was so cold outside he could see his breath condensing.

"Okay, here's the plan," he said.

"Oh, you've got a plan. That's good."

"Do I detect surprise?" he asked.

"Not at all. I know you will save me."

"Well, I'll give it a try…"

"Very reassuring."

"Hey, don't trample on the guy in the shining armor."

He was laughing. She put a hand on his arm, gently rubbing it over the wool of the sweater.

"I never heard you laugh before tonight. Sometimes you smile…a little. But you never laugh."

"I can laugh."

"Tell me what I can do to make you laugh more."

He didn't answer, just averted his eyes for a moment. Finally he said:

"Now about the plan…"

"I'm all ears."

He pointed out into the darkness, where the woods were sloping downward, toward the river.

"We're not that far from Crossville. If we go down through the woods here, we'll come to a trail that'll lead us to a small tributary of the Cross River. It's easy to get across, and after that it's open fields until we reach the church and the guesthouse. Maybe a mile - mile and a half? It's a shortcut. If we stay on the road it'll be much longer."

"How do you know?"

"It's the trail that leads to the cabin where Felicia's family was killed. The minister showed me."

"Well, I guess we just have to do this."

"Are you up to this? We could wait until morning, but it'll be another couple of hours," Jack said.

"No, I don't want to spend more time in this car. If you could get me to a real bed that would be great."

Her eyes were searching his and his breath nearly stopped.

"Yes, that would be great," he said. "I would never take advantage of a sick woman, though."

"What I'm not up to now, I might be up to in a day or two."

He stared at her for a while and saw the uncertainty grow in her eyes. Finally she said:

"I haven't totally misread you, have I? Because if I have, I-"

"No, you haven't misread anything."

"Then…"

"Sam, if I…if we do this, I'm going to lose you."

She drew the blanket closer around her. The fever was still rising. With it came something she could only describe as a loosening up of emotion. She wanted this man so badly. She liked everything about him, even the bad moods. Her husband Gary had been prone to bad moods, too, though for different reasons. When he got angry she had always been afraid of him. She couldn't imagine ever being afraid of Jack Malone. Jack, for all the different aspects of his character she had seen over the past year, was at the core of his being a gentle, noble man.

Sam felt the tears stinging in her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, easing back against the door of the car.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm not sure this is the right place for a discussion like that."

"I'm not going to discuss," she whispered, feeling a traitorous tear slip down her cheek, "I just want to know."

His face took on the dark look it sometimes wore when things were getting to him.

"You're not anybody's mistress," he finally said.

She didn't say anything, trying to suppress the tears, knowing she would eventually fail. Damn fever.

He sighed. "And I don't want you to be mine. It'll end up making us both unhappy. Sooner or later, probably sooner, I'll lose you." He stared at her face. "I'm going to lose you anyway, aren't I? I don't have anything to offer."

She didn't answer to that either. She knew he was right and didn't want to acknowledge it. There was a part of her that would settle for being his mistress,or his lover, or whatever, because she couldn't have anything else. But it wouldn't work in the long run. Not the way she felt about him.

Samantha Spade was a strong woman,and she hated being weak and not in control. She had truly loved Gary. When she had gotten pregnant, 18 years old and barely a month after they had gotten married, he had been terrified. At first she hadn't worried about it. The pregnancy was inconvenient, and they _had_ agreed before the marriage they would wait for a while, but now it couldn't be changed – or so she had thought. Two days later, Gary had come to her with the idea of an abortion. She had laughed at him. He had been eloquent and insistent, and she had become angry. Over the next few weeks he had talked about it again and again. He didn't say right out that he wanted to finish his education first and didn't want to support a family just now. He had been more subtle, using her love for him, slowly eroding her sense of what was right. He knew her and he knew what buttons to press. In the end she had given in, telling herself that they were really too young, that it was really too soon, that she had to do this for him and that she always could have children later.

It had been the biggest mistake of her life. Not only had she lost the child, she had lost him, too. Her feelings after the abortion had taken her by surprise. She had been angry and directed most of that anger at herself. Then she noticed that her love for him was beginning to slip away. She couldn't stand to be touched by him any more, and she realized her anger against him was taking a less obvious road. He had been helpless, and she had not been able to repair the damage that had been done.

She didn't want to do anything that could damage her love for Jack Malone. And she knew that if she became his lover, in the end her love for him might slip away, the way it had done with Gary.

"I can't leave my family," Jack said.

'I wouldn't want you to', she had wanted to say but she stopped and bit her lip. It would be a lie, and that frightened her. How could she have these feelings? For the first time in her life Sam realized that love could be a horrible and selfish thing. Or maybe it was infatuation and not love. She thought back to the case she had been working on before she came to Alaska.

Lowering her head, she started to cry.

Jack was reaching out for her.

"Please, don't," she said between sobs.

He was trying to touch her anyway, but she pushed him away. He could do nothing but sit there and watch her cry.

Jack realized that he hadn't been fair to her. He was making her suffer by being torn in one direction one minute and in another the next. He would have to make a decision. Damn - he didn't usually have this much trouble deciding on something. Furious with himself he rubbed his hands over his face.

000

It started to rain. Big drops, splashing on the windscreen, washing the dirt from the road.

Sam had stopped crying. She was exhausted, flushed by the fever and the tears. If she hadn't been sick, she would never have gone that emotional on him. She wished she had a cocoon that she could crawl into, away from the world, away from him.

"Sam?"

"I don't want to talk." She didn't even open her eyes.

Jack almost smiled. In his experience women always wanted to talk. She was probably no different, saying one thing, wanting another. He decided he would just let her talk for a while if she wanted to. It would make her feel better and assure him that, in whatever way he had wounded her, it would soon heal and it was not that serious.

He opened the car door a crack. The rain was heavy and freezing cold. There was no hope of making it back to Crossville before it stopped. He shut the door and turned back to Sam, ready to hear what she had to say about love, life and how he had hurt her feelings.

She had fallen asleep.

Her face looked naked and vulnerable.

Jack felt as if he was falling.

He wanted to turn back the clock to that first day he had met her and tell Paula Van Doren that he didn't want her in the team, tell her that he needed someone else.

He wanted her to do something that would trivialize what he felt for her, make it less serious, shallow.

He watched her sleep. After a while the feeling of falling ceased.

He had crashed.

Hard.

It was truly his point of no return.

TBC

**  
**


	11. Interludes and Examinations, Part 1

Dear Readers and Reviewers, here is the next chapter and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. There is much more still to come. JBird apologizes for all glaring mistakes in this chapter, which I think is a very generous offer :D. Dear J, I tend to blame the evil worm that has infected your computer! Thank you for being able to do this at all!

And a special thank you goes to JackofSpade, whose advice was invaluable! I don't know who else could have answered my questions.

I'm going away on a training course to Berlin on Monday so I won't be able to post for the next to weeks. But maybe I'll get a chance to figure out some problems in chapter 6 and 7 that continue to elude me.

Now, let's get on with the story.

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 5-**

_**Interludes and Examinations, Part 1**_

_**January/Now**_

_When they reach Central Park the light has almost gone. Martin is waiting for them and leads them to the place where the cap was found. It is overgrown and rocky territory where no one in their right mind ventures, even in daytime, for fear of being mugged. There is only a light scattering of snow beneath the trees with bare patches where the branches intertwine above the ground._

"_The cap was found over there," Martin says, pointing to a big, flat rock, out in the open, covered by snow._

"_Footprints?" Jack asks._

"_Yes, there were footprints. We didn't get a good impression though, because the snow isn't deep enough. We tried following them but we lost them beneath the trees."_

_The place is crawling with police officers, so even if there had been more footprints, they are gone now._

_They start their search. Soon the last light is gone and the beams of the flashlights cut through the dark. Sam sees Jack, leaning against a tree. Shoulders and head are covered by snow and he is fiddling with his light. She goes over to him, handing him a couple of spare batteries she always keeps just in case. _

"_Thank you," he says, his voice rough. He doesn't look at her._

_A faint cry can be heard and their heads snap up._

"_I found her!"_

_Danny's voice comes from somewhere behind them and they turn around, hastening through the tangled growth. Jack is the first to reach him. He focuses his flashlight on Danny's tall figure and the tiny baby that is struggling in his arms._

**September 2001**

The cold air and rain on her face woke Sam. Jack had opened the door on her side and was standing over her, trying to shield her.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said.

She tried to push him away, vaguely remembering that she had done that before, but he wouldn't budge, instead he gripped her arm hard, refusing to let go.

"Listen to me, Sam, come on."

Normally the urgency in his voice would have woken her instantly, but she was held back by the cobwebs of fever. Her whole body hurt and her throat was a painful mess.

She squinted briefly into the beam of his flashlight. Then it was put on the dashboard, illuminating the road before them. The tree that had blocked the road was gone. Sam blinked in confusion and then she understood that Jack must have backed the car up the road.

The rain that sprayed in through the open door woke her further. He was trying to put the jacket on her and she helped him. He started to work on the zipper.

"Look behind us," he said.

She focused. The road was obstructed by a mountain of dirt.

"I started to back up because more dirt was washing down on the road. This is as far as I got."

He sounded calm and composed but when he lifted his eyes to her face she saw the fear in them.

"Landslide," she stated, suddenly very awake.

"I don't know what will happen. The whole slope might come down. I think we should follow the original plan and go downhill. Maybe the trees will protect us."

She didn't hesitate. She got out of the car and grabbed his arm for support. She could stand all right, but she felt lightheaded and her whole body seemed to float.

"Just hold on to me," Jack said, grabbing the flashlight.

000

It was pitch-dark between the trees and without the light they wouldn't have been able to see where they were going. The ground beneath them was cushioned with leaves and the footing was good. It didn't take them long to reach the trail at the foot of the slope. They stopped for a moment to catch their breaths. It was still raining hard and water was dripping from the trees. Jack's hair was plastered to his head and water ran down his face. He reached behind Sam's neck, opening the zipper on the back of her jacket-collar, drawing out the hood and pulling it over her head. His own windbreaker was not equipped like that. He swept the flashlight around in an arc and they could see the trail, leading off in both directions and the waters of the creek nearby, muddy and roiling. Down here on the trail the footing was treacherous and slippery, even in their hiking boots.

Jack took Sam's hand, leading her downstream.

"We're going to be all right," she heard him say. His hand was wet, but beneath the cold rain his skin was warm to her touch.

There were patches where the mud was so deep that she could feel it making its way over the rim of her boots. The going was slow and it took them a while to reach the end of the path. In normal weather conditions it would have taken them to a line of stepping stones, leading over a shallow part of the creek. Now it led straight into the rushing waters.

They took cover under a tree. Here it was relatively dry. Jack looked Sam over.

"How are you?" he asked.

"A little lightheaded, but otherwise I'm fine," she answered.

He glanced around them.

"I don't really know what to do," he admitted. "We're blocked by the creek and going further downstream will only lead us to the riverbank of Cross River. It's pretty wild down there and the water is deep."

He thought for a while. Eventually he said:

"I'm so sorry, Sam. We should have climbed over the tree and just followed the road."

"Would that have been safe? I thought there was more dirt coming down?"

He sighed.

"I don't know. Probably not. I thought we were safer down here. But I'm not an outdoors man. My family is from Brooklyn. I know how to survive in New York. But out here in the wilderness…"

"Well, we're still alive. Once it gets light and the rain stops…"

Jack swept the flashlight over their surroundings. There was nothing but water, rain and the dark trees.

"We can't go anywhere, Sam," he said.

She had come to the same conclusion. The only way left was up to the road and the precarious slope. It was not really an option.

"So much for the shining armor," he said, trying to make light of their predicament, but she could see that he was afraid. Strangely enough she was not. She felt surprisingly safe.

He shifted, leaning heavily against the trunk, taking his weight off his left leg.

"Jack…?"

"It's nothing. I think I twisted my knee a while back. I was too preoccupied to notice. It's starting to hurt, that's all."

"Murphy's law? What ever _can _go wrong, _will _go wrong?"

He shot her an amused glance. She looked absolutely fearless. If he wanted to get stuck in a hopeless situation, she was definitely the person to pick to go along.

He tried to take any strain off his knee but he knew it was too late. His doctor back in New York would be furious. He had strictly forbidden Jack to do anything more then take short walks.

"What is it with that knee, anyway?" Sam asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Hurt it while parachuting in the military twenty years ago. The doctor said the cartilage is eaten away and there is really nothing much he can do. I just have to live with it."

She smiled.

"Look at the bright side," she said, "If we die down here you'll never again have to worry about it."

He laughed for the third time that night.

"I'm not afraid of _dying_," he said. Despite the laughter there was a weariness in his voice that touched her. She supposed it was what could be expected from someone as dedicated as he was. He had seen a lot. He had taken it harder than most and he was not a happy man. She wanted to ask him what he was afraid of; instead she raised her head and listened.

There was thunder in the distance. It started up slowly, getting louder and louder, continuing to roll. Uphill trees were crashing and the ground was shaking. Jack made her lie down, all but pushing her, pressing her to the ground. He shielded her body with his, knowing that if the landslide reached them, any protection would be futile.

000

First the rain stopped.

Then the thunder ceased to roll.

There was neither wind nor the sound of rushing water.

Utter silence.

She was moving beneath him and he rolled off her. He could see the beam of the flashlight were it had fallen. He grabbed it and shone it on her, making sure she was all right. That something could happen to her was the one thing in that moment he was afraid of. She pushed his hand away, because the light blinded her, making an impatient sound. Then she sat up.

The silence continued. The slope had come down further upstream, not reaching their location. They were still alive and she was still with him.

Jack almost started to cry with relief. Sam hugged him fiercely and he hugged her back. After a while he managed to pull himself together. He was trained to deal with combat, criminals and guns. He never expected the forces of nature to be more terrifying than any of that.

Sam buried her hands in his hair and kissed him. Then she wiped the rain off his face, leaving smears of dirt and he wondered if she knew that she was wiping away tears, too She seemed pretty much all right, considering that she had just survived a landslide, was running a high fever and most likely had her heart broken by him.

"Look," she said.

She pointed to the creek.

Where there had been the wild water only a couple of minutes before, there was now only a small trickle.

"I'll be damned," Jack said softly.

"What happened to Murphy?" she asked.

"Died in the landslide…?" he said, shaking his head, numbed by the incredulity of it all.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. Slowly they made their way over the slippery stones in the now dry creek. He was mumbling to himself, ignoring the pain in his leg. He didn't want to use her for support.

"What did you say?" Her voice was raspy and exhausted but she still seemed to be in good spirits.

"Nothing."

"Did I hear something about Moses and the Red Sea?"

"I'm not religious."

Their voices seemed very loud in the stillness around them and Sam instinctively lowered hers.

"What do you believe in, Jack?"

"Murphy's law. But my belief has just been shattered, so be kind."

"They call this a 'deus ex machina'."

"I'll believe in_ him_ then."

He all but dragged her up the opposite bank of the river. He started to sweat with the pain but his bad leg was still supporting him. They came back on the trail and after only a couple of yards they were out in the open. The sky had cleared but morning was still hours away. Sam stopped and he almost bumped into her. The lights of a small town could be seen in the distance but she was pointing upwards.

"Jack, look…"

He leaned on her.

"All those stars. You never see something like that in New York."

He groaned, not lifting his head.

"Do you see them, Jack?"

"I see them all right."

Her skin was hot and she was shivering with cold, so he pushed her gently forward. She started to walk again and ten minutes later they finally reached their destination.

000

The inhabitants of Crossville had been woken by the rumble of the landslide, and many of them were out on the street. They quickly gathered around the two mud-covered survivors who came crawling out of the woods.

Before Jack could start to explain, the Minister of the local church came rushing to his side.

"Agent Malone, oh my God. You were up on the road when it happened?"

John Scopes was a small, round man. Very religious in a way that Jack didn't especially care about.

"Praise the Lord," Scopes exclaimed. "It's a miracle."

Jack tended to agree with the man, but would never admit to it.

"And who is this? The colleague you were picking up? What a lovely companion!"

Jack squeezed Sam's hand and looked at her. She had never looked worse in all the time he had known her. He put the other hand on Scopes' shoulder.

"If you could get us to some place dry and warm, we'd be grateful. Agent Spade here has been ill since yesterday evening and I'm afraid-"

"Certainly, certainly," Scopes cried,delighted and Jack felt as if he had stepped into the wrong movie. How could that man be so enthusiastic in the face of near catastrophe?

"Come with me, come with me. I'll take you home. My wife will take care of everything."

He led them through the people who had gathered around them. Greetings were mumbled. Jack had spent a whole day in Crossville and everyone knew who he was. It was a small, tightly knit community and he had expected hostility towards the intruder, the Federal Agent who was looking for a killer amongst them, but they had been friendly. And it had only taken Jack three interviews to discern that something was being hidden in this town.

He was convinced that some of them knew who the killer of Felicia's family was, that they were protecting him, and that they were trying to deceive him, the man from the FBI.

Jack's hand went down, lightly touching the gun holster clipped to his belt, a reflex meant to reassure. A nasty jolt went through him when he realized that the holster was empty. He had removed his gun on the drive down to Anchorage because it had been digging uncomfortably into his side. It was still sitting in the glove compartment of the car.

He took a deep breath, wishing he'd taken Sam's outburst at the airport literally. They could have gone looking for her suitcase. They could have been on their way to Honolulu by now.

Instead they were trapped in a small town at the end of the world, the only incoming road blocked by the landslide, the phone line probably down and his cell phone was resting peacefully beside his gun, both lost in the landslide.

Oh, well, the service had been pretty bad anyway.

TBC


	12. Interludes and Examinations, Part 2

Berlin was great and so were all your latest reviews. Thank you, guys! My wonderful beta **jbird** was happy with this chapter, so here it is. Enjoy!

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 5-**

_**Interludes and Examinations, Part 2**_

**September 2001**

"I wonder what he's doing up there?" Katrina Scopes asked her husband. She was just as small and round as he was, and if they'd had any children they would probably have looked exactly the same way too. She was busy at the sink, her hands deep into foam and dishwater.

They'd had lunch and Agent Malone had joined them.

"Making sure she's all right," John Scopes mumbled around his pipe, his attention on the sports section of the paper.

"He's been up there for almost an hour. Is he watching her sleep or what?"

"Hm…" her husband answered. His team had lost again. It was just too bad…

Katrina's heartbeat sped up at the image in her mind of that man watching patiently over his young, blonde and miserably ill colleague. Like a certain sales assistant in Anchorage she found him very attractive, although she would never admit that even to herself.

"I'm sure he's in love with her. He's wearing a wedding band and it's not her he's married to…"

"Who's in love with whom?" her husband asked, sucking at his pipe.

She looked out of the window. She had a good look toward the area of the landslide but everything was obscured by the rain.

"A wonder they survived," she said.

Now she had her husband's attention.

"God's been watching over them," he said with satisfaction. He would preach about this for years to come.

In the course of the morning the rest of the slope had come down. The road was gone and so were the phone and power lines. His brother Nick, who was the mayor, planned to make a trip downriver tomorrow and report the whole mess to the authorities. No one had been hurt and since everyone was equipped to deal with power shortages, people were taking it calmly. John Scopes himself had a generator behind the house, like many others.

"I'm sure they're in love," his wife said, staring out into the rain.

"Whatever you say," he said, not really interested.

"He can't have slept much. Did you see how he looked? That poor man."

He lowered the paper to the table and looked at her, alarmed.

"Don't you go talking to him, just because you feel sorry for him. We have to protect our own. It's none of his business to come here, sticking his nose into all those old stories."

"He's from the FBI," she pointed out in a reverent tone.

He sighed. She was definitely watching too much television. She should use that tone toward _him_ and his work. After all _he_ was a man of God. The FBI… What good could they do?

"That's beside the point," he said. "It happened twenty years ago, and we should all just forget about it."

"Maybe it's time to bring it all out into the open…"

"Katrina, she's still out there. Do you want her to go to prison?"

"No, of course not," she mumbled, turning back to her dishes.

000

Jack sat on the only chair, his head in his hands. The room was small; the walls painted pink and faded by age. It might have been a nursery once, now it was obviously the guestroom.

Sam was asleep. Her hair was spread out on the pillow, her skin very white against the sheets. When he came in - it could surely be no more then ten minutes ago - her breath had been irregular and labored. He had sunk down on the chair, scared to death that she might develop pneumonia or something else nasty and potentially deadly, with no doctor in sight. But after a while her breathing had evened out, and so had the beat of his heart. Now he was just sitting and waiting. He had more interviews scheduled for the evening and at two o'clock Nick Scopes planned to take him by another route near to the cabin where Felicia's family had been killed. They all suspected it had been buried in the landslide.

Jack was horribly tired but, as always, when too many things were running through his mind, he had hardly been able to rest. The noise of the generator had done him no good either. His room was facing in the direction of the bloody thing and he could still hear its hammering sound, now made bearable by the fact that Sam's room was actually facing in the other direction, toward the river. A child would have been able to sleep through it and Sam was obviously not bothered by it either.

He ran his fingers through his hair. Sleep would come when he was exhausted enough, it always did.

He checked the time, surprised that it was so late. Nick Scopes would come for him in half an hour. He should go downstairs. He was sure Mrs. Scopes would give him a cup of coffee. But he didn't want to leave Sam, until it was absolutely necessary. Someone should be near her, in case her condition worsened.

The chair had become uncomfortable to sit in, so he went and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a dull, angry throbbing in his knee when he moved, but he could live with it, it had been worse. One of her arms was resting on the covers, so he touched her, encircling her wrist with his hand, just to make sure that she was warm enough. His thumb found the small beat of her pulse and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

He nodded off in a sitting position, jerking awake when there was a knocking at the door.

It was Katrina, carrying a mug of coffee in her hands, a look on her face that could only be described as compassion. She handed the mug to him and he took it gratefully. He sipped at it, the taste strong and bitter, waking his numbed senses.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"It's exactly what I need," he answered.

She approached the bed, touching Sam's cheek and forehead in a motherly way. Jack wondered if the room had been meant for a child, and if so, what had happened. She might have children old enough to have left home but somehow he had the feeling that she wasn't a mother.

"I think she's going to be fine," Katrina said in a competent tone. "Don't you worry, Agent Malone, I'll take care of her. Now, when you've finished that mug come down to the kitchen. Nick said he'd come over in a little while."

Jack drank the coffee, taking his time. He was desperate for Sam to wake up before he left. He wanted to see her eyes and make sure that everything was all right between them. In the way his mind worked, he had already forgotten how she had kissed him down by the creek and wiped water and tears off his face. He still saw her sitting in the car, crying, not wanting him to touch her.

But in the end it was time to go as she was still soundly asleep. So he picked up the pieces of his heart - the dull pain in his chest almost as bad as the one in his knee.

000

It had stopped to rain but Nick Scopes was still in a gloomy and taciturn mood. He led the way through the high grass towards the line of trees, which were already taking on the golden shimmer of autumn.

Jack had tried to get Nick to talk but the man had answered in monosyllables. For a while Jack had contemplated threatening him with the consequences of obstructing a federal investigation, but then he had let it go. He didn't want to get people on edge just yet. There was always time for that later, when the contact to the rest of the world had been restored, and it was possible to get a backup sent in, if necessary. His hand went down to his belt again, wanting to touch his gun and he stopped himself, sighing inwardly. He wondered how often he usually performed that little gesture without noticing. He felt his heart beat heavily. Without his gun he wasn't worth much, he was helpless. He knew that in his current condition he didn't even meet the physical requirements of the FBI. He should have sent Danny on this mission. Together with Vivian he would have done just fine.

Nick noticed that he was too far ahead and stopped, turning around and waiting patiently.

"War wound?" he asked when Jack came closer.

"I've never been to war."

Nick took out a packet of cigarettes and offered one to Jack.

Jack eyed the pack for a while, then declined the offer.

"Given up smoking, eh?"

Jack nodded.

"Several years ago."

"Well, no matter what you do, you're still a smoker."

Jack grinned. The man was right. He'd never get rid of the addiction, he could only contain it. "You seem like a man who's been to war," Nick enquired further.

Jack shrugged.

"I'm an FBI agent."

"You seem more like a soldier."

Nick was watching the agent closely. At first sight he hadn't seemed like a threat, and on the outside he still didn't look like one, standing in the middle of nowhere with his city complexion and beads of sweat running into his eyes. It was easy to underestimate people, though, and Nick had a strange feeling about this man.

Finally Jack answered.

"I've been in the military. A long time ago. That's where I busted my knee."

"Oh," Nick nodded.

He started walking again in the swift and continuous pace of someone who has spent all his life out in the open, his figure tall and bulky in the thick coat he was wearing, leaving the man from New York to follow him in his own time.

000

"This is as far as it goes," Nick said.

They had neared the edge of the landslide, and its tangle of earth, mud and uprooted trees.

"The cabin was only a little further up this trail. Nothing more than a ruin really. No one liked to go there. Oh, well…" Nick lit another cigarette and Jack saw that the man was relieved. "It doesn't seem to be that deeply buried, but I'm sure it's properly crushed. You sure you don't want a cigarette?"

Jack shook his head.

"It's good to bury the ghosts of the past," Nick said. "Don't you think so, Agent Malone?"

"Why don't you tell me, who did it, and I'll tell you if it should stay buried?" Jack said evenly.

A surprised frown spread across Nick's face. He felt the urge to find out how far he could push this agent. To find out what it would take to make him lose his cool demeanor "You're very good at figuring things out. What if I tell you that there are reasons for ghosts to stay buried?"

"There are always reasons."

In one fluid motion Nick reached inside his open coat, behind his back. Before Jack could even start to react he saw a high caliber gun being trained on him. The eyes behind the gun hadn't changed their expression. They were still calm and enquiring.

Jack tried to keep the shock out of his face. He felt as if the breath had been knocked from him.

"Don't feel bad, Agent Malone," Nick said, "I was a cop, once, in another life. Best shot in the whole department. You couldn't have seen that one coming."

Jack knew otherwise. He had been too tired to see it coming.

"You don't want to do that," he said with all the calm he could muster.

"Are you afraid of dying?"

Jack didn't answer.

"There are worse things than dying, aren't there, Agent Malone?"

Jack waited for the man to make his point.

"Maybe I'll deal with you now and with your pretty colleague later?"

Jack felt steel bands try to crush his chest. His vision narrowed and all he could see was the muzzle of the gun and the surprisingly sane eyes of the man behind them. Different scenarios were running rapidly through his mind. The man was still willing to talk. If he could distract him and try to jump him, maybe he would have…

Nick lowered the gun.

"You see," he said, "we all have our breaking points. This one is yours. Mine was, when I killed a kid, because I've always been too fast with a gun. Pat's was, when she saw her father kill her mother and her little brothers."

TBC


	13. Interludes and Examinations, Part 3

It's not quite time for a change of rating. This chapter will more or less wrap up the casefile and then we can move on to other things - good things - very good things - things J and S!

I'm going on a trip to the States on Monday and I'll be gone for almost two weeks - there will be much more of this story after that. Thank you for sticking with me! I'll try to make it worth your while - eventually ;-)

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 5-**

_**Interludes and Examinations, Part 3**_

**September 2001**

They sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. Nick was smoking another cigarette. His gun rested in Jack's right hand. He had checked it and discovered that it wasn't loaded.

"If I had been carrying a gun, you would have been dead by now," he told Nick.

Nick grinned sheepishly, rubbing his eyes. "The world would have been a better place."

"I would have to live with having killed an unarmed man."

"I wasn't exactly thinking about your well-being."

"You could just have told me what you knew. There was no need to-"

"I wanted to know what kind of man you are," Nick said wearily. "I didn't want some dumb shit without any notion of compassion to go after Pat."

"So to that end it was necessary to threaten Agent Spade?"

"That her name? Reminds me of that movie with Humphrey Bogart. I bet she's a tough one when push comes to shove."

Jack didn't reply.

"You'll never forgive me for that one, huh?"

"No," Jack said.

There was a short silence.

"Pat's father was an asshole," Nick said. "I should know. Spend a good deal of my life growing up with him in this place. He always had a temper. And he never liked Trevor Barnes."

Jack didn't ask any questions. Twenty years of silence were about to spill over; there was no need to rush anything.

"He started to run a charter business out of somewhere in California. Ambitious, just like me. Failed, just like me. When he came back he had that wonderful woman with him. Blonde, gorgeous Californian beauty."

He smiled at the memory.

"We all took a liking to her, of course. She was great. And she loved it here. She really loved the place."

He made a motioning gesture behind him.

"She liked spending time in the woods. That's why Marc, that's Pat's father, built that cabin. All was well. Pat was born and then the twins."

He stopped as if debating with himself, whether to go on. Finally he said:

"Mind you, the guy had a temper and not all was well in that marriage. I think she took a beating a couple of times. Very independent minded that one and not afraid to speak her mind. Well, I guess she could handle it."

He gave Jack a grin.

"That pretty colleague of yours reminds me of her. And she seems like a handful, too. I bet it's not easy to keep her in line, either."

He didn't miss the veiled look of fury in Jack's eyes.

"You don't like me speaking about her that way, do you, Agent Malone? Boy, you've got it bad. Let me tell you - women like that are nothing but trouble."

"Why don't you keep your opinions of women out of it?" Jack said, hardly able to contain himself.

Nick decided that it might be wiser to stick with the story. The man seemed to have a dangerous temper and he had been pushed far enough.

"Anyway, Trevor took a liking to her, too. He was my cousin. Died a couple of years back due to pancreatic cancer. Bad one, that. Now, I don't know if Pat's mom liked him or not. Some people claim they had an affair. But Katrina says no way and I'm inclined to agree with her. It's hard to keep anything from her."

He thought for a while.

"She's a good woman. My brother did well marrying her. Shame, though, about the kid. Died in the womb, and she was never able to have another one."

He took a deep breath.

"Oh well… I guess I have to get that story told… It'll start to get dark soon… So one day Trevor went to Marc and told him he couldn't live without her, and all that sort of stuff. At least that's what some people say. No one witnessed that scene, of course. It was June and she was up in the cabin with the kids. Marc must have thought there was something between them. He lost his mind, took his rifle and went up there and shot them. He should have shot Trevor instead. Would have been better for all of us. We heard a couple of shots down here, but no one thought anything about it. People do hunt in the woods. A couple hours later Pat comes back. She's covered in blood and she's carrying the rifle, crying like I've never seen anyone cry, not before, not after. The only thing she managed to say was that she had shot her father. Poor kid, she was barely 16 years old. We went up there and found them like that. Figured that Marc had shot his wife and the twins, she'd walked in on them, gotten the rifle somehow and shot him."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"We never knew, what really happened. She wouldn't talk about it, and a couple of months later she ran away. John went looking for her, but didn't find her. She had gone for good."

Jack felt the story get to him. There was a familiar tightness in the back of his throat. The only cure for that was to go home, open the door to his daughters' bedroom and see them sleep, untouched by the harm of the world, secure.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"We brought them back to town, prepared them for burial and on the next day I went and got the Chief over in Carson."

"He can't have been happy."

"We told him Marc had killed his wife, his sons and himself and Pat had heard the shots, but when she came back to the cabin it had all been over. She was in shock. He accepted our explanation, wrote a report and that was that. No one wanted to ruin Pat's life further. It was ruined enough the way it was."

"Sometimes the best way to deal with things is _dealing_ with them and not covering them up," Jack said. He was thinking about a 16 year old boy who had come home from school one day and had sat down in the living room, watching television until it had gotten dark outside and his father had come home. It was then that they had discovered Doris Malone in the garage, the motor of the car running. She had gassed herself. It was not the first time she had tried to do that, but Jack would never tell his father. He never spoke about it at all, to anyone.

"Things that are covered up start to rot," he told Nick Scopes and the man nodded, understanding from own experience. "I will have to confirm your story by talking to others who were there," Jack continued. "Can you tell me exactly who went up to the cabin that day?"

000

John Scopes was mad at his brother. He'd never suspected that he would be the one to spill his guts. He was also surprised by the sense of relief that spread through the small community in the course of the evening. The concept of your conscience bothering you because of the things you had hidden, of things covered up starting to fester, was alien to him. Scopes, who believed himself to be a man of God, was so firmly grounded in his own superiority that his conscience had never bothered him at all in his life. He hardly knew it existed. In a way Scopes did not really believe in God - he believed in himself.

Now he sat across from Agent Malone, at his own kitchen table, and told the man everything that he knew. Scopes was not a fighter and he liked to talk. It hadn't taken much persuasion.

There was a knock at the front door and Katrina went to answer it.

Scopes had been especially frustrated when he had noticed how elated his wife was that the truth had come out. Now she came back with her crazy sister, Suzanne. John didn't like Suzanne, partly because Suzanne didn't like him and partly because she was said to have second sight. Scopes claimed he didn't believe in the supernatural, which was, of course, a contradiction in itself, but secretly he feared Suzanne. He feared her, because she was so often right. He feared her, because he considered her a heathen and not a true Christian at all.

"Agent Malone," Katrina said, "My sister needs to speak to you. Do you think you could spare her a minute?"

Jack looked up.

"Sure," he said. "We're finished anyway. Thank you, Mr. Scopes for your cooperation."

Scopes was not happy. He had a lot more to say, now that he had finally started to talk. But apparently the agent thought he could do without his insights. Well, it was his loss. Scopes retreated sulking to his study. He had a sermon to work on.

Jack turned his attention to Katrina's sister. Suzanne looked sensible and down to earth. At home she had three kids and she liked to spend time out on the river, operating the fishwheel with her husband. Jack had never seen a device like that before coming to Alaska. It didn't even look remotely like a boat and was used to scoop up fish from the river.

He invited her to sit. What he really wanted to do was to go upstairs and look after Sam, even though Katrina had told him not five minutes ago that she was asleep again. She had been awake in the course of the afternoon, eating a little soup,but being far from well.

Suzanne sat down across from him, looking at him with a smile.

"Don't you usually wear black?" she asked, looking at his olive green sweater.

Jack looked not so much surprised, as irritated.

"Yes," he said in a tone that invited no further comment, but Suzanne didn't notice or maybe didn't care.

"I've seen you coming for a while. You looked like a prophet." she said.

Jack sighed. He felt extremely worn out and he had no patience for this kind of crap. First Scopes with his cries of 'Praise the Lord', and now this.

"You'll have to explain that further," he said tersely.

"In my mind's eye I've seen you approaching for a while. You seemed like a prophet of doom, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. I dubbed you the 'black man'. I was afraid of what you'd bring." She laughed. "Now I see that the bible is right."

She pointed out of the window, into the falling night, in the direction of the landslide.

"Great catastrophes foreshadow great light."

Jack started to rub at his temples.

"Oh, you poor man," she said. "You have no idea what I'm talking about. Luke says: 'And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh'."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Suzanne saw her sister standing behind the agent, in the door to the living room. She was shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Agent Malone," Suzanne said, "I get carried away sometimes. You brought us the truth and it will mean redemption for this whole town. You could call it closure." She hesitated for a moment. "It's too late for Pat, you know. She will have to seek redemption in another world."

Jack felt despair clench his stomach. If he couldn't get Felicia Felton or Pat - as people in Crossville called her - back to her family, then the whole notion of redemption was lost on him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice not much more than a croak.

"I saw her last night."

Suzanne had seen a light out in the woods, late last evening. There was nothing psychic or supernatural about it. It was just a flashlight, wandering up creek in the direction of the cabin. In the night she'd had a vivid dream of Pat, wandering through the woods, searching for her lost family. The roar of the landslide woke her. She was certain it had been Pat out there. The cabin had been buried, and she was sure Pat had been buried with it. Suzanne looked at the agent's stricken face.

"I'm sorry," she said, as if he was the one who needed comfort. "Our men will go and try to dig out the cabin in the morning," she added.

"You can't do that. There's tons of dirt covering it," Jack told her.

"If she's there we'll find her," Katrina said behind his back. Jack turned around. She had crossed her arms over her chest and looked absolutely capable of moving a few tons of earth to find someone she had once cared about.

000

Later that night John Scopes found Jack still in the kitchen, bent over Felicia Felton's file. Jack had been upstairs to look in on Sam, but she had still been deeply asleep. He felt lonely.

"Are you satisfied?" Scopes asked

"No," Jack said, hardly looking up from his notes.

"Why not? We've told you everything."

Jack sighed and raised his head.

"There are questions that only Pat can answer," he said.

"Come on then," Scopes said. "I think I have one more answer for you. Katrina told me to give it to you."

He led Jack up some creaking stairs, past the room Sam slept in, until they came to the attic. He went over to an old chest of drawers, opening the bottom one, taking out something wrapped in a large piece of oilcloth. Putting it down on top of the chest of drawers, he folded back the flaps of the old cloth. Inside was a hunting-rifle, still bearing smears of dried blood.

"That's the murder weapon," Scopes said, secretly enjoying himself.

Jack was stunned for a moment.

"The Chief didn't take it?" he asked.

"Those of us, who were there, when Pat came out of the woods, agreed that the weapon might compromise her. We told the Chief we didn't know what had happened to it. He didn't ask further."

"Some Chief of Police," Jack said dryly.

"He was a good man. He understood what we were trying to do."

Jack felt heartsick. In the end the past had still caught up with Pat. In the end she had been alone, as if the twenty years lying in between had never happened.

"Are you satisfied now?" Scopes asked.

Thoughts of exhumations, ballistics, fingerprints and DNA were running through Jack's mind. With the rifle found, a lot could still be done to clarify what had happened back then. But that wouldn't be his job.

"A step closer," he told Scopes, wrapping the rifle back in the oilcloth.

TBC


	14. Interludes and Examinations, Part 4

Dear readers and reviewers, I apologize for the incredibly long delay in posting this chapter. I'm actually pretty unhappy with season 4 which is one of the main reasons that I got lazy and ignored my story. Thank God, that I have a great beta. She kicked some ass and got me back on track.

So, let us continue with this. I hope you're all still interested because there_ is _more to come.

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 5-**

_**Interludes and Examinations, Part 4**_

**September 2001**

When Sam woke it was dark. She sighed and stretched, feeling better. Her throat was better, too. All the tea that Katrina had made her drink, whenever she was awake, must have done something good. She groped for her wristwatch on the night table beside her and glanced at the glowing numbers. It was 6.30 in the morning.

She cast the covers aside, sitting up, wondering how Jack had been doing with the case. Voices from outside could be heard and she rose, a bit unsteady, and walked over to the window. A small group of men was standing outside, flashlights and digging tools in their hands, apparently starting out on some kind of expedition. She searched for Jack among them, but he wasn't there. It felt like a long time since she had last seen him. Every time she had been awake the day before, Katrina had told her how busy he was.

Sam got dressed. Her head spun a little and she guessed that she was still not really over the fever, but the need to know how the case and how Jack were doing was greater than all that. When she went down the stairs, she could hear voices. The door to the kitchen opened, and a man came out, thermos in hand.

"You sure you don't want to come?" he said, glancing back.

Sam heard Jack's voice answering, his New York accent oddly out of place:

"No, you go ahead, Nick. I've got some loose ends to tie up here."

The man nodded, turned and saw her standing on the stairs. Something like an unpleasant memory or maybe the workings of a bad conscience flickered over his face. Then he was gone, and she heard him giving instructions to the men waiting outside.

Sam went down the rest of the steps and steadied herself by leaning on the doorframe that led to the kitchen. Now that she was up, she felt a lot worse than when she had been lying in bed. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, working on a list of names. The smell of coffee was in the air.

"Hi, love," Katrina said, standing at the stove. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks," Sam mumbled.

Jack looked up and their eyes met. His gaze was void of emotion, his eyes wandering to Katrina and then back to the list and Sam felt a deep stab.

"Should you really be up?" he asked.

Sam shook her head. She could not speak, because her throat was suddenly tight with unshed tears. Some part of her mind told her that he was just being careful, but the fever made her weak and emotional.

Then Katrina was all over her, full of motherly concern.

"Poor thing," she said. An unresisting Sam was bundled back upstairs again, tucked into bed, an array of pillows arranged behind her back and neck. Katrina was talking all the while, her voice soft. Sam didn't mind her taking over.

"I'll get you a tray with breakfast," Katrina said. "You just stay put until I come back."

Jack was checking the display of Sam's cell phone, when Katrina returned to the kitchen. She took out a tray and put it forcefully down on the table. Jack flinched, but said nothing. He tried to shut out the sound of kitchenware being handled roughly and loudly to make a point. That was something he had a lot of experience in. Finally the tray was all set with bread, butter, jam, steaming coffee and a mug of tea for good measure. Katrina leaned over the table.

"You're a jerk," she said.

Jack looked at her, in shock.

"You men are all the same! She needs some warmth and all you can think of is that it might compromise you. First you make her fall for you, and the moment it becomes inconvenient you dump her like…like…garbage," she spat out.

Jack's mouth dropped open. It was a mystery to him how Katrina Scopes knew that something was going on between him and Sam. Later he pondered if she had a touch of the psychic herself. It never occurred to him that her common sense had just seen the obvious.

He groped for an answer, but Katrina didn't wait for one.

"You take that tray up to her, and you better make her feel a little better. Prophet, my ass. You can't even imagine how a woman feels. Got to have a word with Suzanne."

Before Jack could recover, she had put on her coat and was out the door. He looked at the tray.

"Shit," he muttered.

He looked at the tray some more. Finally his mouth compressed in a hard line. It wouldn't be so bad. At least no one could see him. He stood up, picked up the tray and slowly made his way to the foot of the stairs. He was usually doing a very good job at hiding the pain by preferably moving while no one was looking or simply making a poker face and pretending nothing was wrong. Going up a flight of steep steps with a tray in his hand was a different matter. He tested his left leg, noting the nauseous wave the pain send flowing upwards and decided it could not support his weight. He finally settled on putting the tray up a couple of steps before climbing them, supporting himself on the railing, then putting the tray further up again. It went well that way and he was proud of himself. He made it to her bedroom feeling exhilarated that he had avoided humiliation.

She was sitting up in bed, looking flushed and ill and now that they were alone, he let his heart out of its cage. It jumped into his throat instantly, choking the lighthearted remark he had been about to make. He put the tray down on her knees. Her eyes were guarded and wary. She leaned her head back against the wall.

"I'm not hungry," she said.

An oppressive silence spread throughout the small room.

Jack wanted to apologize, but it was impossible for him to get the words out.

There was more silence and he wanted to leave, to be anywhere but together with her in this room. He was terrified that she would reject him again, the way she had done in the car. On top of the pain in his leg he was not sure he could handle that one. He was about to walk out, when she spoke:

"Please Jack, just put the tray over there."

She kept the cup of coffee and he moved the rest of the breakfast over to a small table by the window. Then he went to the door. Her voice, tight and controlled, held him back.

"I'd like you to fill me in on the case."

Relieved that she was all business, he sat down on the chair that was pushed back against the wall, recounting everything that she had missed in the last 24 hours. She listened, a concentrated frown on her face. They talked about the case for a while the way colleagues talk and he started to feel better. But, in the end, they had talked about everything and every moment of silence was still unbearable.

"I have a couple more people I need to talk to," he said. "And I'll try to reach the Anchorage field office in the course of the day. I hope they can send a helicopter to get us out of here. I'll use your cell phone. It was in your pocket."

She nodded, sipping at her cup. The coffee made her feel better and she straightened herself up.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Could have been worse."

Her eyes traveled up to meet his and he could not stand her gaze, quickly looking away, getting up to leave.

"Jack, wait," she said. "Come here," the inflection of her voice unintentionally sharp.

She could see that the tone didn't sit well with him but he stopped, a stubborn look on his face.

She pointed at the bed.

"Sit," she said, not bothering with niceties.

For a moment she thought he would leave anyway. He seemed to be fighting an inner battle, his body already turned towards the door, his head bent. Then he gave her a short glance as if to gauge her mood and finally gave in and sat down with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face in a tired gesture.

"What the fuck is wrong, Jack?" she demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"

So he let out a breath and told her about the gun Nick had drawn on him, stressing that it hadn't been loaded, leaving out the part where he had threatened to 'take care of her'. She was pale when he finished.

"I really have to do some work, now," he said.

"Jack, are you in pain?"

He was taken aback, his hands instinctively cupping his knee.

"It's not so bad," he said, embarrassed.

"It's still dark outside," she said, "and will be for another hour or two. I'm sure people will appreciate it if you don't disturb them in their early morning routines."

She moved aside, making room on the bed.

"I suggest you lay down and get some more rest. You look like something the cat dragged in."

He bent down without another word to take off his boots, and she looked out of the window, so he could have some privacy. Obviously bending down was painful for him, too. Finally he settled down beside her on his back, grunting a little, using one of the pillows as support under his left knee. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. Sam covered both of them with the blanket. She moved closer to him, her body just touching his, her cheek pressed against his upper arm. Somehow his hand found hers and held it tightly before intertwining their fingers.

"Oh God, Sam," he whispered.

After a couple of minutes he dozed off.

000

When he woke again, the sun was shining outside. He moved his head a fraction to glance at her watch. It was 11 a.m. He groaned. There was no way he wanted to move. It was so good to lie here, his body sunk into the mattress, feeling the warmth of the woman beside him. Even the pain in his knee had abated to a manageable level. Sam's arm was flung across his chest, her head on his shoulder. He grew very aware of her presence, moving his head so his cheek came to rest against her hair.

Half an hour later he decided he simply had to move. When he sat up to retrieve his shoes from under the bed, he felt her stirring behind him. He put them on, grateful that the muscles in his leg had relaxed and let him move with relative ease. He waited for her to say something, but instead he felt her arms go around him from behind, hugging him tight. Then she ruffled his hair and nuzzled his neck. He turned around to face her, feeling more at ease with her than he had done before. She stroked his face with her hands, tenderly. Finally she put a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I'm not going to really kiss you, mister," she said. "Don't want you catching all those germs, but it was nice sleeping with you."

He embraced her, holding her very tight.

"Yeah, it was very nice," he said, when he let her go.

"Smile, Jack."

He attempted something that looked a little crooked.

"We'll figure it out somehow," she said.

Jack nodded. There was really nothing to figure out. He was in love with her like crazy, and at home his wife and kids were waiting for him. There was nothing to figure out. He was screwed either way and he was sure to get someone else hurt in the process, probably all of them.

"Yeah, we'll figure it out," he said, wanting to believe her, and trying to shove the whole mess into the background of his mind. For a while he almost succeeded.

000

Once the weather had cleared, Jack got a signal on the cell phone and talked to the field office. Two days later the FBI was finally able to send a helicopter to retrieve their agents. Until then Jack had wrapped up his end of the investigation. There was nothing more for them to do.

To his relief Nick had gone downriver to talk to the authorities and his brother, the minister was playing boss at the dig to the annoyance of all involved. Katrina was left home alone. It proved to be a much more relaxing experience not having the two headstrong men around. Jack noted that Sam and Katrina were talking a lot. He was not sure how he felt about that. He feared another bashing from that side. But when they said their goodbyes on the last day, Katrina merely hugged him, pressing her rosy, round cheek to his stubbled one. She stayed that way for a moment too long and Jack was grateful that Sam had gone up to her room to get her bag. Just when he was about to draw back she released him. Instead she took his face in her hands, looking him into the eyes with an intensity that made him feel uncomfortable. He wanted to shrink back, feeling like a little boy about to be reprimanded. Then her smell reached him, clean and soapy, bringing with it the memory of long ago summer days, of the fine sand of the beach beneath his feet, and his mother, sweeping the small boy up in an embrace. He drew in the fragrance, snapping back when he became aware that he was about to lose himself in the moment,and that the woman before him was not his mother and he himself not a boy anymore.

"You poor man," Katrina said, letting her hands fall away.

Jack heard Sam come down the stairs, dropping her bag at the foot of them.

Katrina smiled at him.

"You know," she whispered, "one day soon you will have to let go of the past. If you don't the past will eat you alive. I know what I'm talking about."

He shook his head, not knowing what she was referring to, because she couldn't possibly know about his mother. Later it came to him that she had probably just seen that there was _something _there, a past tragedy that was bothering him, something threatening to make him bitter if he didn't let go in time.

A bit flustered he turned around and saw Sam standing there, her hair windswept from a walk by the river, her cheeks flushed. He suppressed the impulse to reach out and take her hand.

"Come on," he said, sounding more gruff than he had intended.

Out in the woods the people of Crossville were still trying to dig out the remainders of the cabin. It was a slow job. It would take a while. But Jack had the feeling they would not stop until they had found the woman they had all tried to protect.

000

The helicopter made a low pass over the area of the dig. Sam could make out waving people. She looked over at Jack and adjusted her microphone, so she could talk to him over the whirring sound of the rotor blades.

"Do you really think she got buried in the landslide? All we have is Suzanne's word. And if you ask me, that sort of evidence is a little flimsy."

"Do you think she's still out there?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"The feeling in my gut tells me she's gone. But that's no more hard evidence than Suzanne's dreams."

"My gut tells me the same thing," he muttered. "I wish to hell it didn't."

"You talked to the family?"

"Vivian handled it."

"Good."

She studied him, taking in the details of his appearance, the way he held himself. His shoulders were hunched, the bad leg stretched out in front of him. The lines in his face, more pronounced than usual, gave him a disgruntled look. Sam felt that something was weighing on him, but she couldn't tell if it was the case, his marriage or their mutual attraction and the potential mess their lives threatened to become.

'Why him?' she asked herself. He was so totally different from anyone she'd ever had a relationship with.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but thought better of it. The pilot could listen in on their conversation. He leaned his head back, folded his hands in his lap and stared at her, thoughtful at first, but then she watched his mood change. A faint glint appeared in his eyes. Sam suddenly got the feeling that he was undressing her in his mind. It didn't bother her one little bit – quite the opposite.

She stared back, amusement soon deepening to warmth. There was no need to talk; this was a conversation on a whole different level, one on which she had never communicated before, with anyone.

Why him?

What a stupid question.

Because he was Jack.

TBC


	15. Interludes and Examinations, Part 5

I'm back with a new chapter. It's the one everyone has probably been waiting for because...well...let's just say for this chapter I'm changing the rating to **M**, so if that's not what you're looking for there is no need for you to go further than this paragraph.

**THANK YOU** all for the wonderful reviews I got for my last chapter and **THANK YOU** for sticking with me!

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 5-**

_**Interludes and Examinations, Part 5**_

**September 2001**

Special Agent Susan Croydon looked at the agents in disbelief.

"Are you telling me that a whole town - of about 200 people - kept this secret for twenty years?"

Jack shook his head.

"Only about twenty people knew the real story. The Gales and the Scopes were pretty close. Some of their closest friends knew. So did three other people who went up to the cabin with the Scopes brothers on that day. All the others got fed the same story as the sheriff. A few suspected the truth, but no one was interested in shaking things up. Nick Scopes and some others were quite relieved when the truth finally got out, but most of them would have been just as happy to let sleeping dogs lie."

He looked at Sam.

"Anything you want to add?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Since I was out sick most of the time I wasn't that involved in the case. But everything I learned later confirms that story."

Jack put the folder he was holding down on Agent Croydon's desk.

"For your reading pleasure," he said.

Susan Croydon smiled at the two New York agents seated in front of her.

"Well, what can I say - I really appreciate your help. And I hope you'll have a good trip home."

"You _will_ notify us if Felicia turns up - dead or alive?" Jack asked.

"You'll be the first one to know," Agent Croydon confirmed.

000

Sam dropped down on the seat beside Jack. Boarding would begin soon. She faced him.

"I look horrible," she said.

He blinked in surprise. There was no doubt about what she wanted to hear, but her face looked so matter of fact that he was not sure if she was making fun or being serious. She might even be flirting.

"I just saw myself in the bathroom mirror. I look positively horrible," she continued, a smile of pure innocence appearing on her lips.

"Oh," he said and let his eyes travel down her body. Yeah, she was trying to flirt with him for sure and she didn't seem to mind the way he was looking at her either. With amusement he remembered trying that look on Maria a couple of times while they were still dating. He had been teasing her then because he knew she minded and would start a hot discussion about the subject – something about being treated like a sex-object. He had never been sure how serious she had really been about that because each time it had led to…well, never mind. Sam was smiling into his eyes.

"So…" she asked.

He considered her for a moment.

"You're trying to seduce me," he finally stated, staring at a spot over her right shoulder because the way she looked at him made him feel weak.

The playfulness went out of her and the sparkle left her eyes.

"Sorry, Jack."

He hated to see her look so serious all of a sudden. For a moment he hesitated, knowing that every action he took with her would have consequences. But in the end he couldn't help himself, so he lifted his hand and trailed his fingers over her face, lightly touching her eyelids and her lips on the way.

"Oh, Jack…" she sighed in resignation.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured.

"I'm tired of fighting this," she said.

He rested his thumb on her lips as if to silence her.

"Me too," he said. He tried his best to stay cool but could feel a slow tremble start in his muscles that betrayed his desire. Sam could feel it, too. She slid both hands beneath the unzipped vest he was wearing, resting them on his chest. He was tense.

Sam looked around. There were few people waiting for the flight and none took any notice of them. She let her hands slide further upwards, caressing his throat and the line of his jaw.

"You're killing me, woman," he said with a growl.

She inched a little closer and Jack placed his other hand on her leg, fingers splayed, his thumb caressing the inside of her thigh. A fog settled in Sam's brain. Jack seemed to feel the same way. His caution was gone and male strength shone out of his eyes, enquiring about her needs but ultimately sure of itself. She had only ever seen him sure of himself as the FBI agent, never really as a man. She was glad he was sure of himself now, with her.

She leaned even closer, their faces inches apart.

"What do you want, Jack?" she asked.

He traced her lips with his thumb and then touched them lightly with his - a feathery, moist kiss that made her heart leap in anticipation.

His hand then dropped away from her face, but the other one stayed on her thigh, its warmth felt through the fabric of her jeans.

"You look wonderful, by the way," he said.

Boarding was announced and Jack rose, his movements awkward, hindered by his bad knee. Sam felt a now all too familiar stab when she saw his pain. It passed like a cloud over his face and was gone, and she understood that he was so used to living with it, that he sometimes hardly noticed. He extended his hand to her. When she took it, he squeezed it hard and didn't let go. It felt like a promise.

000

They reached Seattle three and a half hours later, and would have to wait another two hours for the next flight to New York.

They had hardly spoken on the plane, ample time for Jack to make up his mind. A lot of things had been going through his head, not the least of them being that he trusted her with his life and that he was sure that she would never compromise him. All he knew, now, was that he wanted Sam, and he pushed the voice telling him that he might regret it later far to the back of his mind. He longed to find a place where they could be together, in private. For a brief moment he considered checking into a hotel at Newark airport but dismissed the thought – too many hours away.

"Wait for me," he told Sam. "Wait for me right here. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

He left her standing in the middle of the terminal, and she saw him striding off toward the airline counters. She sat down on the nearest bench, nervous about what he was planning to do. She didn't really know what to expect of him. She only knew that whatever happened had to be his call.

Fifteen minutes later he was back, leaning over her, placing their tickets in her lap.

"I changed the flight to tomorrow at noon."

He looked at her, wary of her reaction. When he got a delighted smile he felt relieved. Heaven knew what that woman saw in him. There were so many attractive men out there; he couldn't understand why she had chosen him.

000

"But this is the Hilton, Jack," Sam pointed out.

"I don't care," he answered, "it's closest. I'll pay for it."

"The Best Western is right down the street, the woman at the information said."

"I don't care," he repeated stubbornly. "Do you want to fight me on this? Come on!"

"Are you bullying me?" She looked up at him. "Maybe I'll just go back to the terminal then."

She pretended to turn around, but he caught her, cupping her neck and pressing a soft kiss on her mouth. She opened up to him, willingly. Their tongues met briefly before he drew back again.

"Very convincing," Sam said. All her nerve-endings were tingling. Jack brought his mouth close to her ear.

"Sam, I need you," he whispered.

000

The door clicked shut behind them.

"Why don't you sit down on the sofa," Sam told Jack who stood close behind her, his hands on her hips, nuzzling her neck. "Or better yet, make us some coffee. I really need to take a shower first."

Jack groaned, his hands sliding around her, gliding over her stomach, lifting up her sweater and finding the smooth skin beneath. He tucked them under the waistband of her jeans.

She turned around, forcing him to remove his hands.

"I want to take this slow, Jack." She smiled, putting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Do you mind?"

He groaned again but didn't protest. As if by accident she brushed her hand across the front of his jeans, noting the way his breath hitched in his throat.

He swallowed.

"Are you going to torture me?" he asked.

"Coffee, please?" she said.

With a smile that seemed to say 'just wait until I turn the tables', he went over to the coffeemaker. She watched him busy himself with scooping just the right amount of coffee into the filter. He stopped to think for a moment then added another two spoonfuls.

"I thought you said you wanted to take a shower," he said without turning around, sensing that she was still standing there.

Without a word Sam unzipped her jeans. She wriggled out of them, watching Jack tense at the sound of rustling clothes. He turned around, coffee-spoon still in his hand, staring at her.

She pulled off the sweater and the t-shirt she was wearing, her movements as casual as if no one was watching her.

She unhooked her bra, the memory of standing in the underwear aisle of a drugstore in Anchorage, thinking that he would never see that side of her, touching her mind.

Almost completely undressed, she faced him fully, smiling. He stood very still, coffee-spoon trembling slightly in his hands, his eyes following her every movement, grazing every inch of her body. Still smiling she removed her panties.

"Come on over here," he said, his voice so low she could barely hear it.

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I'm going to take a shower first."

"The hell you are."

Suddenly very aware of what she was doing, standing naked in front of a man who was not only married but also her Supervisory Special Agent, she raised her fingers to her lips. Her breast were now covered by her arms but all the rest of her was gloriously exposed and, to Jack, seemed even more desirable by her sudden shyness.

"Sam?" He was puzzled by her reaction. Here she had followed him all the way into a hotel room, practically cast off her clothes and now she was standing there looking as if she didn't know how she got herself in that situation. Had he done something wrong?

Jack felt a moment of panic. What else did she expect of him? Did she want him to say that he loved her? He knew exactly how he felt about her, but he was not ready to bare his soul. Why did women always want confirmation? Why couldn't they just-

She made a move to turn away from him and he finally knew what to do, approaching her with two quick strides, catching her in his arms, pressing her naked body to him and trapping her arms against his chest. She let out a nervous giggle that changed to a delighted sigh. Pressing her hips against his, she said:

"This is so different…"

"Different from what?"

"I don't usually feel this giddy."

Jack cleared his throat.

"I really don't care how you _usually_ feel…"

She clamped her mouth shut. That she'd had dates and maybe something more in the two years she had worked for him so far had never been a secret, although Kellar had been the only one he'd ever met. She'd never thought, though, he would mind in the way she now saw in his eyes.

He bent his head and began to nuzzle his way up the side of her neck, sending shivers through her body. He explored her earlobe, marveling in her skin and her smell. Finally he resurfaced and looked at her once more.

"So, I'm different?" he asked hopefully.

"Very," she said matter of factly without elaborating further. "Listen Jack, I really need to take that shower."

He sighed and released her, watching her walk to the bathroom and close the door behind her. He stood transfixed, still staring at the door when it opened again a moment later and Sam popped out her head, looking at him expectantly:

"You want to come along?"

She didn't have to ask him twice.

000

He let her help him undress. To tell the truth, she did most of the undressing. He enjoyed the feel of her fingers on his skin and noticed that she didn't miss his reaction. When she was done it was his turn to be shy although he tried not to show it. She was so perfect and he was aware of that he had not been keeping himself in shape. Judging by her reaction, though, he must have been the most handsome man on earth because she pressed herself against his naked body with relish, her face radiant, before taking him by the hand and leading him to the shower.

000

Jack was not happy. He had been doing fine, standing under the hot shower, a beautiful woman in his arms. Then she had handed him the soap and asked him to lather her. The feel of the smooth soap against her skin had excited him beyond words and he had been allowed to touch her everywhere. He had lost himself totally in the task until she had been tensing against him, crying out his name. He had been pleased with himself, wanting to take things a little further and that was when his leg had started to bother him once more. Having fun while lying down might be all right. Having it standing up in his condition, supporting her weight was out of the question. On top of this the excitement seemed to have been too much for his most private part. It gave out on him just when he wanted her most and no, he was not happy about that at all.

000

"Sorry about that," Jack said.

He was sitting on the bed, wearing a white bathrobe, coffee cup in his hands, watching her brush her hair.

"Sorry about what?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You know…"

"Oh that," she smiled. "Jack, I didn't really expect to have sex in the shower, so it's quite all right."

She put the brush aside and went over to him, kneeling down between his legs. She looked up at him and he smiled down into her eyes. Putting the cup of coffee aside he said:

"But I think I may be up for it now."

"Sex in the shower?"

"Sex on the bed - if you don't mind?"

"I don't," she answered, pulling at the sash of his bathrobe and inching closer. "Can we do this the way I want?"

"Anything."

"If you're still up to it afterwards you can do anything to me _you _want."

"Whoa," he said, a smile spreading over his face, "Now that's a promise."

He looked at her. His hands traced the contours of her face, stroking her hair as if he was really seeing her for the first time.

"Anything," she said.

A look of worry crossed his face.

"Look, Sam, I'm not really into the kinky stuff, so if you…"

She pushed him down on the bed.

"Me neither – well, not much anyway. Don't worry, I have the feeling we'll do fine together."

He pulled her down with him.

"Okay…"

"Just keep your hands at your sides. Don't touch anything."

"That's impossible."

"You're a tough guy. You'll manage."

She knelt down between his legs.

"No touching," she warned one more time.

"You got it."

He looked at her, reaching out and brushing his fingers over her cheek.

"No touching," she said with a smile.

"Sam?"

He sat up, bringing his face close to hers and kissed her. It was different than the kisses he had given her before. Those had been kisses of need. This kiss was so tender that Sam felt tears well up in her eyes. She held them back, not wanting him to see how deeply she was affected. In that moment she knew full well the depth of his own feeling. There was no need for him to tell her that he loved her. It was evident.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

"What do you want me to do?" he whispered.

"Just let me make love to you," she whispered back. "Please, Jack, just let me make love to you."

He lay down again and dropped his hands at his side.

"I'm all yours," he said.

TBC


	16. Falling Toward Apotheosis, Part 1

Dear Readers and Reviewers, yes, I'm still writing this story and I promise I will see it through to the end - it may yet take a while but we'll get there. Thank you to **jbird** who is as thorough a beta as I could wish for! This story would not be the same without her advice. And thank you to **JackofSpade**, **Mariel**,** Diane **and everyone else who has asked for an update. I'm happy you like this story.

Please note that this particular chapter is **rated M!**

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 6-**

_**Falling Toward Apotheosis, Part 1**_

_**January/Now**_

"_I heard a whimper," Danny says, his voice jubilant. "And there she was, right beneath those bushes. She can't have been there long."_

_He takes one of the baby's small hands in his own._

"_She's still warm. Whoever had her at least took some care of her." _

_Jack steps up closer, gently cupping the child's head. One of the police officers hands him a blanket and he helps Danny wrap the child. _

_Sam notes how expertly his hands move. This is something he used to do when his daughters were small. Now he's only seeing them a couple of times a year. _

"_Well done, Danny," Jack says quietly, resting his hand on the younger agent's shoulder. Danny's face is beaming with joy._

_Police officers and agents have gathered around them. Some of them are cheering._

"_Go down that path," Jack instructs Danny. "There's an ambulance waiting. __Let the paramedics check her out. The mother should be there, too. If not, make sure you find her. Martin and Viv…"_

_He looks around until he finds their faces in the crowd._

"_You stay here and continue the search for the kidnapper. He can't have gone far. Sam…"_

_He searches for her and finds her standing right at his side._

"_Sam…" He avoids her eyes. "Sam, you can go home. You're leaving tomorrow so there must be a lot of things you need __to take care of. I'm going back to the office."_

_There is exhaustion evident in his voice and Sam and Viv share a surprised glance. He is usually elated when a case like this ends well._

_He turns around and walks away without acknowledging any of them further. Sam is stunned. He didn't say goodbye and tomorrow she will be gone. She follows him with her eyes and, although she is so hurt that she has to hold back tears, she takes some pleasure in the effortless way he walks these days.__ After he had the operation a few years ago, all the pain which was __evident in his stride, has vanished. He seems like a much younger man. Seeing that still makes her happy._

_Further down the path she sees him stop, as if remembering something. He turns. His black-clad figure is clearly visible against the white snow._

_A gunshot rings through the air and she sees him fall._

"_Jack," she cries out and starts to run. Behind her voices rise in an uproar. Martin tries to hold her back. She does not notice. Branches are whipping into her face, one of them leaving a bloody scratch on her cheek. It seems like an eternity until she reaches him. He is lying on his back. His coat has fallen open and blood is spreading on his white shirt. Sam drops to her knees beside him, pressing her hands hard onto the wound above his heart, trying to stem the flow of blood._

"_Jack!" _

_His face has lost all color, his eyes are open but without focus._

"_Jack!" she calls out to him, her voice sharp with fear. _

_He is not responding. The life is draining out of him._

"_We need the ambulance," she screams. "We need the paramedics, now!"_

_His blood is soaking through her fingers. She presses down harder, trying to keep the panic at bay._

_It is only a matter of minutes before the paramedics arrive. For Sam it seems like hours. She is pulled away from him. Martin tries to take her in his arms, but she fights him off._

"_Don't touch me," she all but screams. "Leave me alone."_

_The paramedics are trying to save Jack's life. There is urgency in their movements and yet they are calm, their hands steady._

_Around Sam everything is dark. She can only see him, the white snow and the red blood._

**September 2001**

"I'm all yours," he said one more time, watching a wicked, little smile touch her lips. She straightened up, tossing her hair out of her face, her hands on his thighs.

"You need a pillow for that knee of yours?" she asked, looking thoughtful.

"I'm not an old man," he grumbled.

She left it alone.

"Now relax," she said.

"Easy for you to say." But his eyes were half closed already and there was a smile of anticipation on his lips.

She started to run her fingertips over his skin. She wanted to explore him fully, not so much for his pleasure but for her own.

Sam's last boyfriend, apart from her brief fling with Kellar after coming to New York, had been a fellow student at Quantico. They had split up, because he was going to Cleveland and she was going to New York. It hadn't been a great love affair and there had been no regrets. She had liked the sex and his body more than the man himself. He had been well-muscled, hard to her touch, wide shoulders and narrow hips - the picture of male beauty.

Jack was fifteen years older than that man had been. Sam combed her fingers through the hair on his chest up to the hollow at the base of his throat. He lay very still. She placed a kiss there, exploring it with her tongue, nibbling her way further up his neck. His skin felt good on her lips, his taste and his smell deliciously male… no, deliciously Jack. She buried her face in his skin, smelling and tasting, enjoying the sounds he made.

Jack's body was heavy-set and he was not in the best of shapes, but to Sam, he was the most beautiful man she had ever met. He exuded a vitality, an inner glow that she wanted to immerse herself in.

She took her time hovering over him, exploring his body with her lips. She moved all the way down to his feet and upwards again, enjoying the low sounds he made. Finally she reached his face, covering it with kisses, caressing it.

Jack was breathing deeply, more relaxed than he had been in a long time.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly. His lids were closed.

"Don't you like it?"

"I'm in heaven."

She caressed the insides of his thighs, making him spread his legs, kneeling down between them and lowering her head. He gasped in surprise when he felt her lips, then groaned with pleasure. His hands got tangled in her hair, holding her gently in place. She continued, enjoying his reactions immensely. When he suddenly stopped her, she moaned in dismay.

"Sam…"

She pulled back, afraid that she hadn't been gentle enough and somehow hurt him.

"Sam…"

He was reaching for her.

"I'm not finished yet, my love," she whispered, letting him draw her into his embrace. "You did like it, didn't you?"

"I love it. I just need to hold you, all right?"

He held her tight, breathing deeply into her hair. She wrapped herself around him, wanting desperately to give him anything and everything he needed.

At last he drew back a little to look at her. She gently rubbed the skin above his heart, wondering if he was really all right with all this. Then they got lost in each other's eyes.

After a while and never breaking eye-contact, she mounted him, guiding him inside, enveloping him fully. She saw his eyes glaze over with the pleasure her movements gave him. Oh, yes, now he was all right, now he was whispering her name - only 'whispering' was far too romantic a word for the groans that came from within his throat – now he was moving deep inside her.

Waves of physical pleasure started to roll over her, but the real pleasure she felt was on a whole different level. They had connected. Their bodies were performing an act of sex, but on another level, they were making love to each other, somewhere deep inside, with the cores of their beings. She would never have thought it could be like that.

She was close to climaxing when he slowly rolled over, burying her beneath him, starting to move faster and she felt herself not being pushed but hurled off the final cliff in a way she had never been before, sailing through the air, falling. Her body arched against his, the muscles painfully tense and, as she came, the climax rolled on and on, like the thunder of the landslide. Finally his own release came, his body shuddering with the force of it.

He collapsed on top of her and she took his weight, wrapping arms and legs around him. His warm, heavy body felt good. She could have stayed like that for a while but, after only a moment, he extricated himself from her, rolled to one side and took her in his arms. She heard him mumble something into her hair but could only make out her name and the words 'never letting you go'. She would remember them always.

The moments passed and Jack could feel that she was looking at him. He wiped at some traitorous moisture in his eyes, ashamed of his emotions.She brushed his hand away and cleared the tears off his face with tender fingers. He looked back at her.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"What for?"

He shook his head unable to tell her that he was not sorry for the past but for possible repercussions of their actions in the future.

"It's not important," he mumbled.

"Jack, I really want to be with you."

He was silent, hoping that other words would follow, words that he yearned to hear although he couldn't say them himself, words that spoke of love. Women liked to speak of love, he knew that much.

Again she proved to be different from the women he had known in his life.

"Jack, I really want to be with you. I don't know what's going to happen to us in the future, I just want you to know."

He opened his mouth, but she put her fingers on his lips preventing him from speaking.

"Just listen to me."

He waited.

"Will you remember this - regardless of what happens to us, that you're my man?"

He nodded silently, gazing at her. She settled back into his arms. How was she supposed to know that he would remember her words, but ultimately be unable to believe in them? That he had not the same ability to hear what was unspoken in words and actions. She knew that he loved her. He didn't know the first thing about her love for him.

She fell into a light sleep, her head resting on his chest.

000

They felt they had all the time in the world.

Later in the afternoon they first had coffee and then called room service for food. And after that Sam discovered that the man she loved had more means to give her pleasure than she had imagined.

000

Jack's heart felt like it was going to burst with tenderness at any moment.

"That was incredible, Samantha Spade," he said. They had made love again and now emotion was almost choking him. There was no way he could ever give her up. She was his. She had to be.

"Yeah, you want to try again sometime?" she asked. He smiled, hiding his turmoil.

"We've got the rest of the day and the whole night. I just think my old buddy down there needs a bit of rest."

She snuggled closer, hooking one leg over his body.

"I liked what you did," she said.

"What did I do?"

"Giving me pleasure…I mean, did you even get any yourself?"

"Woman, what do you know of my pleasure?" he said with a devilish grin. "I was getting my two cents worth. Besides, I could give you back the compliment."

"Oh, I was pleased."

"Yeah, it showed."

Her eyes were dark, filled with thousands of stars, all shining exclusively for him. Jack felt at peace. The memory of Kellar's visit to the office, of the flowers he had brought for her, of her smiling at him, entered his mind and he couldn't help but feeling a sort of triumph rise in his chest. She had chosen him. She could have been with anyone but she had chosen to be with him. A moment later, as if to punish him for his feelings of victory, his heart skipped a beat when he realized that there would be other men after him. This was just an interlude. They were not meant to be together. Once they got home they could not continue this. He would hear about her dating someone else, eventually. He might even run into the guy the way he had done with Kellar. Someday she would get married and have kids and he would have to watch all that…

Her hands were cupping his face.

"Jack?"

"Mmh?"

"What is it? Is it your leg?"

He rolled onto his back.

"No," he said. "My leg's just fine. Don't worry about it."

She placed her arms on his chest, resting her chin on her hands, looking at him. His arms went around her, crushing her possessively. Sam had always been scared by possessiveness but with him it felt right. With him she yearned for it. And it made her hope that maybe, after all, they would find a way to make this last.

Forever.

TBC


	17. Falling Toward Apotheosis, Part 2

Finally, I got this chapter finished. It has bounced forth and back between New Zealand and Germany a couple of times and involved, among other things, **jbird** getting up at 5.30 in the morning to edit this... She's the best!

Now, please, if you're still with me, enjoy!

* * *

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 6-**

_**Falling Toward Apotheosis, Part 2**_

**September 2001**

When Jack woke it was still dark. Confusing dreams had made his sleep exhausting and he didn't feel refreshed. Now, a multitude of worries assaulted him and settled like a weight on his chest. He turned his head, barely making out the glowing numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. It was four o'clock in the morning.

He sighed, trying to push the thoughts back and recapture the bliss of a mind exhausted and fulfilled by the last day's events, ready to go to sleep again. But now it was too late. Sleep wouldn't come back. It usually didn't this time of morning, hadn't done so for many years now. So he lay there for a long time, faces parading before his mind's eye - faces of people that had never been found – the faces of those who had been found too late, the faces of children. He lay there panicked about his own inadequacy, knowing that he was not smart and not strong enough to help them all. Knowing that if he failed, lives would be crushed and lost, a debt that could never be paid.

At last the faces blurred and merged as they always did after a while, letting him go. Only today they were replaced by the face of his mother, of his wife and daughters. He felt his heart constrict.

He struggled between sleeping and waking, tortured by the jumble of thoughts and emotions.

ooo

The morning grew later and with the rising light he resurfaced to look at the woman beside him. She was sleeping peacefully, a smile on her face.

They had spent the past day making love. They had stared into each other's eyes, oblivious that a world around them existed. Jack had been flying high. He had been happier than he had ever been before, caught unawares by his feelings. He had in fact – he was able to admit that now – lost his head.

What had he been thinking?

He rolled on his side, facing Sam, looking at her face, which was illuminated by the early light, filtering in through a crack in the curtains. She looked so self-assured in sleep, as if nothing in the world could hurt her. She looked as if someone was watching over her.

Jack lay awake for more than an hour, thinking about what it all meant for him and what it might mean to her, thinking about consequences. Worst of all, was that he finally understood in what way he had failed Maria in all those years. He liked his wife. He had always respected her because she was smart and tough. But he had never loved her the way he should have. He had been _in_ love with her once, but it had passed as these things do, and been replaced by sympathy. And sympathy had not been enough.

Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice that Sam was awake until she touched his face.

"So, you're regretting it now," she said.

He didn't know what to say. Deep down he wasn't regretting anything. He never would. And still…

He was searching for words when, to his horror, he realized that she was close to crying.

He took her in his arms. She didn't resist. Her face came to rest against his chest.

"I wanted this, Sam," he whispered in her ear. "I know it's a mess, but I wanted you. I still want you."

She sighed.

"I want this, too," she said, her words muffled against his skin.

Then she lifted her head and looked at him. He kissed her eyelids, feeling her lashes flutter against his lips.

"So – what are we going to do about it?" she asked. He didn't answer and she was relieved. Part of her wondered how they had ever gotten this far. She knew well that there was something hard and steely at the core of him and while she might deceive herself into thinking it was reserved for his professional life, she knew it was ultimately part of him and extended to his whole being. Right now he appeared to be weak, unable to make a decision – and maybe he was. But she also knew that he would work his way through it and what his decision would be once he came out on the other side. She dreaded that moment. She hoped he would stay weak, for her, for a long, long time.

They stayed silent for a while, things unsaid between them, questions unasked, issues unsolved. They would have to stay unsolved for another day Sam decided. When Jack rolled over, pinning her to the bed, she relaxed and made a deep, contented sound.

"This feels so good," she said. "Is there more to come or is this just an empty threat?"

He grinned, his worries pushed to the back of his mind, desire mounting.

"I never make empty threats," he assured her.

Her eyes became serious, holding his. He tried to part her legs with his knees, feeling resistance and stopped, unsure what was going on. Her expression didn't change, but he saw a glint light up deep inside them.

"Take what you want, Jack," she said. "I know you can."

So he continued what he had started, enjoying the feel of her strength, delighting in the way her willpower matched his. He held her hands down, feeling her fingers entwine with his. He brought their lips together and she opened hers in welcome. Her hips rose against his and when he entered her it was it was even better than it had been before.

So they made love, while the morning came and the demons fled, and Jack realized that no matter, what the future would bring, and what choices he would have to make, he would always belong to her.

000

Vivian sat at her desk, staring at the telephone receiver she had just replaced in its cradle.

She had talked to Jack yesterday. He had told her that they had been held up in Anchorage and would have to catch a flight tomorrow. Just now she had talked to an Agent Croydon out of the field office in Anchorage. She had wanted to inform Agent Malone that the body of Felicia Felton had been found in the rubble of the landslide. Her family had been notified and they were flying in later in the day. Also a gun had been recovered from the agent's car that had been swept away when the landslide occurred and had been found, not buried too deeply, near the cabin She would make sure it was returned to Agent Malone via priority government shipping **-** once they had verified the model and registration number. Before Vivian had even been able to heave an inward sigh about the paperwork involved, Agent Croydon had added that she hoped Agents Malone and Spade had had a good flight back to New York.

Vivian, momentarily cast off track, had chosen not to comment on that, ending the conversation in a hurry. Later she wondered why she had instinctively tried to cover up for them.

It was really none of her business.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the desk.

It had, of course, been inevitable. She had seen it from the start. And it was really not her place to judge them. She would stay out of it and hope for the best.

Vivian got back to work.

Outside it was a warm, sunny day. It promised to be a wonderful September.

000

Maria sat at the small desk in the bedroom, looking out of the window. She loved the view, a slice of New York skyline with the tall pillars of the World Trade Center towering over everything.

Sighing, she tried to concentrate on the files that were spread before her. Kate was running a fever and Maura, the babysitter, was unavailable until the afternoon, so she had decided to work at home and reschedule all meetings to later in the day.

It would all be much easier if she lived near her parents. They would be happy to look after the kids. Frank, Jack's father, was pretty much useless at that. The kids loved him, but he couldn't really be trusted to look after them on his own. Maria thought he was displaying signs of beginning dementia. She made a mental note to talk to Jack about it. Jack himself, of course, was almost never available. It had become easiest for her to not count on him at all. He had been gone for more than a week now and she didn't especially look forward to his return. Whenever he was home, he was like a stranger coming to visit, upsetting her routine, exciting the kids. It would be so much easier without him.

For a fleeting moment she wondered where all the love had gone. She had been crazy about him once, hadn't she? She had hardly been able to wait, getting married. It had been wonderful to see how insecure and how tender he had been, when he held Hanna in his arms for the first time. Only, after a while, all the good stuff had started to get buried under the downsides. Did he really have to work around the clock? Did he really have to worry about the missing _constantly_? She'd started to hate being woken in the middle of the night by his nightmares and she'd started to hate being excluded. Why couldn't he just talk to her and tell her what was wrong? Didn't he know she cared about him? She was his _wife_ for God's sake. And when he finally talked, things came out in anguished bursts, like the time he had told her about his attempted suicide, many years ago. It had been scary and she hadn't really wanted to hear about it that way.

She twiddled her pen and pursed her lips in thought. In a way he was not the man she thought he was. Oh well, there were worse things than being married to Jack Malone. Maybe she should just give them one more chance. She decided to cook something he really liked tonight. And maybe she would let him take her to bed afterwards. It had been a long time and she knew it was not easy for him. They seemed to crave a different kind of closeness.

Maria smiled, trying to recover some of the old warmth for him in her heart. She decided to look forward to his return. Still smiling she went back to work.

000

Jack and Sam were sitting across from each other at a small table in the departure area of Seattle Airport. It was a busy time of the day and people were milling around them. Sam was picking at a half eaten sandwich, not really hungry for food. She looked over at Jack, who was sipping at his coffee. She was definitely hungry for him. The last day had only satisfied the very peak of that hunger.

The setting was unromantic but that didn't bother them. From time to time Jack looked up, meeting her eyes, feeling pure happiness flow through him. Outside, beyond the tall glass walls, the sun was shining, its rays reflected on the cockpit of the Boeing 747 that was rolling across the tarmac toward the runway, destined for a far away place.

The anguish of the early morning hours was forgotten. In the bright sun of the new day everything seemed possible.

Part of Jack's mind was nurturing an unspoken dream. That dream was telling him how easy it would be to leave home. People did it all the time. Custody of children and visiting rights were all things that could be worked out and had been, thousands of times. Maybe it would even be easier than to go through the routine of yet another day of his life, and yet another. Maybe he could be alive again _all_ the time, not just… Jack pushed the thoughts aside. He could not give up on his marriage that easily, regardless of what had happened between Sam and him

Sam reached over and took the paper cup out of his hands. He was reluctant to let it go, although there were only a few drops left. She wriggled it out of his fingers with a smile and put it on the tray. Then she gave him her own.

"Here, drink the rest of this, junkie" she said.

He laughed and sipped the rest of the coffee that was in it.

"I'll get us more coffee," she said. "I bet that's all right with you."

"Fine," he murmured, turning her cup in his hands. As happy as he felt, he was also tense. What would the future bring?

Sam rose. She passed behind his chair, her fingers brushing over his cheek and neck in passing. Jack felt like taking her back to the Hilton that very moment. He turned and followed her with his eyes.

Had this been a one-night stand for her?

He didn't think so. The thought that she might love him with a strength that matched his own love for her crossed his mind. But he dismissed it. She was attracted to him. She liked him. It wouldn't do him any good to read more into it.

He picked at the rim of the cup.

It wouldn't be hard to find some time to spend with her. He was always working late anyway. Maybe they could go to her apartment. Certainly she would want that, too. He took a deep breath. He needed to see her again, soon. Very soon. Not as a colleague, but as a lover.

She came back and put another cup of coffee in front of him, sitting down again.

He wrapped his hands around it, not caring that the heat bit into his skin because now her dark eyes were looking into his.

"I'm not having any plans for Friday evening," she said. "Maybe we could work late -together. There are some things I want to go over with you."

His heart made a leap of joy.

"Now, what could that be?" he said, trying to stay cool

"Let's say there are certain things that leave me unsatisfied. I thought you could help me with that."

"Funny you're mentioning that," he said softly, "because I'm having a similar problem. Let's help each other."

She beamed at him across the table.

Some of the hot coffee spilled on his hands and he put the cup down, swearing under his breath, not able to suppress a grin. Sam took a napkin and dabbed the liquid from his skin. When she was finished she didn't let go of his hands but kept them in her own. He raised them and placed a kiss on her fingers.

They looked at each other in perfect understanding.

TBC


	18. Falling Toward Apotheosis, Part 3

Dear faithful Readers and Reviewers, I'm sorry that I'm taking so long with this. I can't even promise that the next chapters will come any quicker because I'm looking at some pretty big changes in my life which will keep me occupied for some time. But I'll try to update in a not too far future and hope you'll be patient.

A big thank you to my faithful beta **jbird** who manages to beta my stuff although she has her hands full with small children!

Also thanks to everyone who requested an update. Prodding always helps! Now enjoy...

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 6-**

_**Falling Toward Apotheosis, Part 3**_

**October 2001**

Jack looked up at the light shining out of the window of Sam's apartment. He had been here twice after they had come back from Alaska, having had every intention to make this a long lasting affair. He'd been prepared to live with the doubts and with the sharp twinges of guilt. He needed her – that was all that mattered.

Then the towers had come down.

At first they had been working around the clock and there hadn't been time to see each other.

Then he had needed to be with his family. When the planes hit, his daughter Kate had been on a trip with her kindergarten class and near the World Trade Center. For weeks afterwards she'd had nightmares.

Jack recalled the sense of impending doom that had been hanging over New York in the days after September 11th, as thick and choking as the smoke and the ashes had been. It had felt like Armageddon. Their world had started to crack open and everything seemed changed forever.

Now the cracks had started to glaze over and the world was moving on.

Jack himself had tried to settle back into the routine of his domestic life. It hadn't been hard. Maria had been thoughtful and almost tender. There hadn't been a word about the long hours he'd had to work, about the way he had come home tired and short-tempered and about how things were getting to him. He had felt his heart mellow toward her, discovering that there were still feelings other than sympathy beneath the surface. They'd been living together for so many years. He knew everything about her. They had shared so many intimate moments. That was something it took years to build. They were not just two separate beings; they shared a life, children, habits, thoughts and so much more. Jack had discovered that there was still love between them.

In a way.

He had also discovered that there was a part of his soul that he had never fully bared to her. In that part, locked away from the prying eyes of the world was the pain and guilt he had felt at his mother's death. There was the despair that had almost led him to take his own life. There was the anger at his father, the man who hadn't been able to make his mother happy. And there were the faces of all those missing people, his life's work, his obsession.

In a way Jack Malone was a very lonely and unhappy man, and the only person to ever touch and understand that part of him, was behind the window he was looking up at. They had never talked about those things, but he somehow knew that she understood.

In those weeks after September 11th, warming toward the newfound tenderness with which Maria had treated him, he had seen it as his duty to finally give her that glimpse into his soul, which he had never before been able to give. And giving it to her, she had been courteous and understanding. He had felt a certain lack of warmth in her reactions, but he was old enough to know that you couldn't have everything. This would have to do. It was all right. Very soon, though, her manner had changed. It started innocently enough by her criticizing, once more, the choices he had made in his life, namely the work he had chosen. That was nothing new, but this time she had a lot more fuel for her complaints – and he had given it to her. He had clammed up like an oyster after that, knowing that it was the wrong road to take and that he was messing up his chance to work things out once and for all. But he couldn't help himself. There was a major roadblock somewhere in his soul and he couldn't get past it.

He just couldn't get past it.

Sam hadn't mentioned their relationship with one word in those weeks. He had only felt her eyes on him from time to time, steady and calm, barely giving away anything. Maybe she understood why he tried so hard to save his marriage, maybe she just didn't care, there was no way he could tell.

Jack took out the key she had given to him weeks ago and let himself into the building. The elevator was not working, as always, and he had to walk up to the fifth floor, taking it slow. Alaska had mangled his knee pretty good, to the extent that his doctor had started to talk about surgery. He might as well have talked about amputation for all the joy Jack felt at the prospect. He knew the operation would include cutting away a large portion of bone, replacing the damaged joint with an artificial one, a thought that made him feel nauseous. What if something went wrong? What if they sawed off his knee and the replacement went bad? He would have to live the rest of his life as a cripple. Jack preferred not to think about it – he would rather bear the pain. The thought that he already was a cripple with a knee like that, dragging himself around, didn't cross his mind.

He stopped in front of her apartment door, catching his breath and letting the pain subside to a dull throbbing. He considered ringing the bell because she was not expecting him. But then he wanted to see her reaction when he just showed up, unannounced after all this time. Would she be irritated? Angry? Delighted?

He opened the door. The residual smells of cooking lingered in the air, mixing with the smell of her apartment – a faint scent of flowers, very pleasant, very Sam. Music was playing in the background, something happy and cheerful, like water flowing down a stream.

His need for her was suddenly so great, so overpowering that he started to tremble. He dropped his brief case to the floor, not caring that he might scare her by bursting in like this, striding to the half-open door of her living room. It swung open before he could reach it and she stood there, the contours of her body outlined by the light. He couldn't see her face and stopped dead, unsure of himself.

"Jack."

Her voice was soft and he could hear some strong emotion running through that one word, through the way she spoke his name, but what it was he couldn't tell. She might be mad; she might also be madly in love. Since he couldn't believe in the latter it had to be the former. Then she threw herself at him and clung to him with an unintelligible exclamation, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He was almost thrown off his feet, his legs still trembling, so he maneuvered her against the wall, pinning her with his weight. Their faces were close and now he could see her eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. He pressed his mouth to hers. She responded with such fervor that all thoughts were swept away. Her hands were already pulling at his clothes, and the feel of her fingers on his naked skin sent him spinning. He needed to immerse himself in her – completely.

So he did.

000

Sam came back from floating blissfully somewhere far away. She wrapped her legs tighter around him not minding the hard floor beneath her. His breath was hot against her throat and his body started to relax against hers.

It felt good to have him close again. She had been sure he would never be back, that it had been over between them before it really started.

In the living room Bach was still playing, the light notes in odd contrast to the passion they had just experienced. Jack rolled off her, ignoring her protests. She was one tough lady, he concluded, and he had never before been able to lose himself in the act the way he did with her, without fear that his vigor and passion might hurt or offend her; but this time he was sure that, lying beneath him she must have sustained some bruises.

He tried to stand up and she had to help him. He waited for the inevitable remark about his bad leg but she stayed quiet, managing to support him and cling to him at the same time. His fingers wandered down her spine, pressing lightly.

"Does that hurt?" he asked.

She looked confused for a moment, then her face lit up in a smile.

"You stupid man," she answered, "how often do I have to tell you that you're not hurting me? You're much gentler than you think you are."

He grinned down at her face, his hands traveling over her disheveled clothes, feeling the contours of her body.

"You have strange ideas about gentleness," he told her. Then he kissed her again deeply and this time it was her who backed him up against the wall.

"I need more," she said, her voice husky. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Give an old man a minute to recharge his batteries," he replied.

"I thought you wouldn't be back."

He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, trying to get away from her gaze. Coming here again had been no small decision.

He could only think of one other time when he had been that tortured. It was when his mother had asked him not to tell his father about her attempted suicide. His love for her and his yearning to see her happy had clouded his judgment. The outcome had been disastrous – deadly – and although he knew that the situation he was in now, was nothing like that, he was reminded of that time and of the horrible consequences choices sometimes left in their wake.

Sam's body pressed against his.

She was completely intoxicating, irresistible. She was Eve, giving him the fruit of temptation…

He realized where his train of thought was leading him and felt self-contempt rise. Had he sunk that low that he was now seeing her as the temptress, the one to blame for his misery?

Unaware of what was going on in his mind Sam had put her head on his chest. He felt her trust in him and was touched. Embracing her, he hid his face in her hair, taking the final step off the edge of the cliff.

It would be a while before he looked back. By then all he could do was pick up the pieces. He had never been very good at that, but it was his job to try.

000

Sam propped herself up on one arm and watched him sleep. As happy as she was in that moment, there was a bitter undercurrent of resignation running through her mind.

He would never be able to commit to her.

She understood that his marriage and his daughters held him back - only, it was not really that at all. The thing that was not right between them and maybe never would be was the same thing that was wrong between him and Maria. It was something that kept him from committing to a relationship the way he was able to commit to his work. At first she had thought it was just a basic flaw in his character, something that made this otherwise gentle man seemingly numb about the feelings of people close to him, blind about what he put them through. It was like a blind spot in his soul, a deformation. Then she had started to see that his soul was not deformed at all just immersed in a pain that made it hard for him to feel anything else, much like the pain in his knee that hindered his physical movements. She had started to wonder where that pain came from and what had happened to him but she didn't know how to ask. It would be easier if, whatever had happened to him, had left a physical mark. She could have asked: How did you lose your leg; how did you lose your eye? Or simply – tell me the story of that scar. But to say - I know something has happened to you; I can see the scar on your soul as clearly as if it was on your body; tell me what made you that way – that was so much harder.

She watched him sleep.

At least she could make her own choices, and the choice she made in that moment was to commit to him and believe in him until he found his way. It was a choice that was bound to get her hurt but she didn't care.

She loved him too much.

TBC


	19. Severed Dreams, Part 1

I abandoned this story four years ago for lack of time and energy. Since then a lot of good changes have happened in my life and, funny enough, this story has stayed with me and refused to go away. Every year my faithful beta **jbird** has prodded me to get this finished.

So, dear readers, if you're still out there, I give you here the next chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it and, be assured, I'm working on the next!

Thank you, **jbird**!

**Tomorrow**

by Serataja

**-Chapter 7-**

_**Severed Dreams, Part 1**_

_**January/Now**_

_The waiting room has been crowded all night long. A couple is sitting in one corner, talking in hushed voices. An old woman sits near the door, waiting alone, her eyes overflowing. Other people have been in and out, doctors have come and gone but no one has any news for the waiting FBI agents. _

_Danny has been sitting in the same position since they arrived. His arms are crossed on his chest, his legs are stretched out. He's unmoving, staring gloomily at the floor. Martin, on the other hand, is moving around, standing up, pacing, sitting down and checking his watch every five minutes. He's holding up passing doctors and nurses to ask them for news but so far there is none. _

_Vivian sits beside Danny, face composed and pale under her dark skin. She remembers her own collapse because of her heart condition several years back,__and the fear and shock on Jack's face as he was sitting beside her in the ambulance, holding her hand. She wishes she could return the favor, but the paramedics whisked him off in such a hurry, there was no chance for that. From time to time she looks up at Jessica who is leaning against the wall, frowning and looking as if she is studying the candy bars and sodas in the vending machine. She is not, of course. Nobody can look at candy bars for hours on end. Actually she is looking right past the display at the chair beside the machine and the person who occupies it. She has done so for a long time and her frown is deepening. _

_Sam is oblivious of being watched. She is oblivious to anything but the occasional doctor entering the room. Every time it happens she feels as if her heart is about to stop, only to resume its beat when she realizes they don't bring news about Jack. She has tried very hard not to cry. The tears are building up inside but she can't let them out, not while Jessica is standing there, her eyes dry. _

_What Sam really wants to do is scream, because she does not know how to deal with the despair expanding inside of her. It was the way Jack looked when they took him away - she can't believe he'll live. _

**January 2002**

"Hey, Viv," Danny said. Letting himself fall into his chair, he put coffee and a bagel on the desk in front of him. Vivian acknowledged his presence with a smile, barely raising her head from the file in front of her.

"What's up with you?" she asked. "You're not late."

He looked at her in his best puppy dog fashion. "I was lonely. I needed to see you, you're my best friend."

Vivian turned her head and looked at him, amused. "What about your girlfriend?"

"What girlfriend?"

"The one you met at that Chinese place?"

"Oh, _that_ girlfriend. No – no, that's been over for a long time."

Vivian shook her head. "You know, Danny, you have to learn to commit."

"It's not me," he said with a shrug, taking a big bite from his fresh bagel. He continued to speak while chewing: "It's them. Once a girl gets to know me - I mean _really_ know me - it's over."

"Don't spray me with crumbs, please."

"See what I mean? What are you working on?"

"The judge finally decided to give us the search warrant."

"I thought that would never happen. What made him change his mind?"

Vivian shrugged. "We had a little talk."

"I'm impressed. Judge Adderley is hard to handle."

"I was having a good day."

"Next time I have to deal with him I hope he's having a good day, too."

Vivian laughed. "You can always hope."

"So, what are we waiting for?" Danny asked, craning his neck to check out if the office on the opposite side of the corridor was occupied.

"Since you're here, I'm not going to wait for Jack. He's working on the Slightman case, anyway. What do you think, can the two of us handle this?"

A grin spread across Danny's face.

Getting up, Vivian put a hand on his shoulder in passing. "Grab that coffee and follow me. And just that you know it, I think your girlfriends are out of their minds."

000

Sam was stacking files on a trolley to take them back to the bullpen. She had pulled everything they had on the Slightman case.

Bernard Slightman, twenty years old and son of a New York millionaire had been kidnapped in February last year. A ransom had been paid and he had been returned, unharmed, two weeks later. The kidnappers had never been found. In June, Bernard had gone missing again. It had been four days of frantic searching before he had been found at a roadside motel outside of Poughkeepsie with a prostitute.

Sam remembered that Jack had been furious. A waste of time and money he'd called it.

Then, after 9/11, Bernard had been reported missing again. No one knew for sure if he had been near the World Trade Center that day, but his parents believed him to be one of the victims. They had leaned heavily on an unwilling Jack to investigate, but with so many missing people reported, Bernard Slightman had been fairly low on their list of priorities. That proved wise, because in November he had turned up again, claiming that he had taken a trip through Europe.

Now he was gone again. Jack had only agreed to take the case because the parents had talked to the Mayor. The Mayor had talked to Assistant Director Victor Fitzgerald. In turn, Fitzgerald had leaned on Paula Van Doren -and she had given Jack a direct order.

Sam grinned at the memory of Jack's reaction. The Slightman kid was probably halfway to Honolulu by now. Likely with the rest of the ransom money from his kidnapping, which they suspected had been staged. Maybe he would meet up with the suitcase she had lost on her way to Anchorage; like Bernard it had never been found. Then again, maybe Bernard was in real trouble this time and had just cried wolf one too many times. Sam leaned toward giving him the benefit of the doubt. Also, there was something about the whole story with the prostitute that was still bothering her. She didn't mind having another look at the case.

Sam heard the door to the file room close behind her and a pleasant shiver went down her spine. Only an hour ago she had last seen Jack on the sidewalk outside of her apartment. He had been on his way home to change clothes. With Maria out of town on a business trip for the past two days and his daughters staying with friends, he had spent the night at her place.

He stepped up to her - close.

"Good morning, Sam," he said.

"Good morning to you, too, Jack. Did you sleep well?"

"I'm afraid no."

"So - how's that?"

He smiled, "There was a blonde woman in the same bed - and she was snoring…"

"You have to be more careful with whom you sleep with."

"Well, otherwise, she was very nice…"

"I bet she was." Sam snorted. "I was definitely not snoring. I never snore."

She turned back to the files, double-checking the ones on top.

"That doesn't belong here," she said.

"What is it?"

"The Parson case from last August. Danny and I were working it. That was a nasty one. Do you remember?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't. Must have gotten lost in the pile on my desk after September 11. What was it about?"

"A schoolteacher who murdered her lover." She hesitated. "He didn't want to leave his wife for her."

She put the rest of the files on the trolley. For the first four months of what Sam refused to think about as their 'affair', Jack had been relaxed and happy. Only lately he had started to be distracted, looking sad when he thought she was not looking at him.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asked, puzzled.

She looked back at him. For the first time she wondered if this 'affair' would end up hurting them as much as it had made them happy.

"No, I'm not. It just hit a little close at home, that's all."

He put his arm around her, leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

"Before you murder me, let me know. Maybe we can work something out."

She laughed softly.

ooo

They took the files back to the bullpen.

"Vivian and Danny are on their way upstate," she told him "Vivian finally got the search warrant out of Adderley."

"What - with that kind of evidence? What did she do, torture him?"

"No one knows. She wouldn't say."

"So now I'm stuck with you?" he asked, grinning.

"You, me and the Slightman case. It doesn't get any better."

Before they could begin unloading the files on to the conference table, Paula Van Doren appeared. She stopped and raised her plucked eyebrows at the sight. "Don't tell me that's all from the Slightman case," she said.

Neither Jack nor Sam cared to answer. Van Doren knew as well as anyone in the office how much time they had spent on the case and how much paperwork it had generated.

She came closer and put her hand on one of the files, studying it for a moment. "That doesn't belong here."

"Oh?" Sam said.

"No, it's the Parson case from last September. Better get that one back to the archive."

"August,' Sam said.

"Whatever."

Van Doren shifted her weight to the other foot and leaned on the Parson case. She looked as if she was trying to frown but her forehead remained smooth.

"_Botox_," Sam thought. "_What does an FBI Agent need Botox for?_" Then remembered how she herself was toying with the idea of getting something done to her lips and maybe hips. Jack had been horrified when she mentioned it.

"Bernard Slightman," Van Doren said, amiably. "So, Jack, you think this is a wild goose chase?"

"Doesn't matter," Jack muttered, "if the mayor insists we have to find this kid in another motel with another hooker, so be it."

"I've had a call from the parents," Van Doren said. "They told me Bernard might be with his sister."

Sam and Jack stared at her blankly.

"Bernard doesn't have a sister," Sam said, feeling a weight settle in the pit of her stomach. _"We overlooked something," _she thought. _"We haven't been doing our job. Damn – I usually can tell when people are lying to me, can't I?"_

She cast a glance at Jack.

He was frowning. "You mean they lied to us?"

Van Doren lifted her eyebrows. "That's nothing new, is it? People lie to us all the time."

Jack shook his head. He'd had a special rapport with Edmund Slightman, Bernard's father, despite their belief that Bernard was neither really missing nor really kidnapped. The thought that the man had been lying to him about essential information rattled him.

"I cannot belief they could have hidden a daughter from us. We've dealt with this family for the whole last year. Apart from 9/11 there's nothing else we've spent that much time on," he said.

"Well," Van Doren replied, "apparently she's not exactly their daughter. Slightman tried to explain the details on the phone but he sounded a little confused. I told him I would send someone over to talk to him. Sorry, Jack."

"No problem," Jack said, looking like he had one hell of a problem with the whole thing. "We're on our way."

As they were walking down the corridor, Sam heard him mutter something about how he wanted to hear _that_ story for himself.

"Look at the bright side, Jack," she said, trying to console him, **"**The Slightman case has just gotten way more interesting."

But he wasn't listening to her.

**TBC**


End file.
